


The Monster Within

by AvalonTheLadyKiller, XenaHime53



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Dark Magic, Dumbledore Bashing, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Horcruxes, Horror, Humor, Manipulative Dumbledore, Past Abuse, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Reincarnation, Second Chances, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Spells & Enchantments, Survival, Time Travel, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4319976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvalonTheLadyKiller/pseuds/AvalonTheLadyKiller, https://archiveofourown.org/users/XenaHime53/pseuds/XenaHime53
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of going to die in The Deathly Hallows like everyone expected her to, Shea Potter makes arrangements to go back in time to live the life she always deserved, with the soulmate she was denied having, effectively changing the timeline. Darkness has always been known to linger in her life though, and now it is threatening to consume her whole or destroy everything that she loves. It awakens the sleeping, deadly monster within her that the world would have never been quite ready to meet in the process. Let the  games begin. Ravenclaw!Powerful!DarkGray!FemPotter!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> AvalonTheLadyKiller is my co-author and is extremely badass, so please check out here account that is both on here as well as Fanfiction.net. :)

The darkness that seeped through every corner of a house that was hidden from the outside world, there were various sized moving portraits with same wavy dark hair and silver eyes, seemed to blend in with the dangerous aura that hid behind the black grand double doors with elegant silver handles that led to the library. In the large room and behind a few stacks of books that were tall, a young woman of seventeen years old slowly pulled a thick dark arts book away from her face to reveal haunt bright jade eyes that matched the color of the killing curse.

 

The color of blood matched her curly hair, bangs hanging in her sun kissed faced as she leaned forward to rest her head in her hands. Tears clouded and stung her vision before she closed her eyes, she saw the faces of those that had fallen that were close to her. Luna. Neville. Fred. Hermione. Sirius. Remus. Tonks.. A finger traced the very much alive scar on her forehead and Shea Potter couldn't help but shiver in th pleasurable pain it gave in return. Knowing what she did now, she knew she couldn't give it up.

 

Ever since she was young, Shea Potter's life was not her own. From the Dursley's abuse that everyone turned a blind eye to - to Dumbledore's manipulations : everything was chosen for her. Everything.. and like the naïve idiot she was-

 

" _So_ _weak_. _So_.. _vulnerable_." Voldemort had been right all those years at the department of ministries and even back then - when he was insanely obsessed with killing her he said that as a matter of fact. As if he saw through her and wondered just how Dumbledore aimed for her to 'vanquish him'. As if wondering if she even had enough power to go head to head with him, someone who spent decades upon decades studying and mastering the dark arts.

 

She was not raised in the magical world, she didn't know the right questions to ask and.. Dumbledore, the man she trusted just like so many other blind sheep to the Shepherd, had been raising her to die. Every year she was at Hogwarts had been one test or another, she was made out to be such a hero. Dumbledore kept her ignorant of many things : her heritage of Morgana le Fey and later on down the line Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, her assets and thousands of pieces of gold stolen from he vaults as well as personal items of the invisibility cloak, the Gryffindor sword and many other treasures.

 

He kept her ignorant and abused with the one hope of having a sense of belonging left to rot in a cell he did not commit, not even attempting to speak up to suggest a trial since Dumbledore was the exact same person that did the secret keeper spell. Dumbledore was the cause of this - the old lemon drop eating coot not only stole from her to pay off most of the Weasley's to like her except for Fred, George and Charlie but he planned to make her kill her magical soul mate.

 

Oh yes, Tom Riddle was her soulmate. She doubted he knew since he split his soul up into seven pieces like he wanted to do when he first asked Slughorn about it. She only knew for two reasons a.) Her magical soulmate identification mark curved his name on her heart only a few days ago and b.) Because after Dumbledore's death she went to Gringotts and ... 'politely' asked for a full length blood test. It also explained what happened all those years ago as soulmate, knowingly or unknowingly, couldn't kill each other - the soul piece from her brave mother's death latched onto her as a way to be safe.. nevermind that she was the only person that was alive in the room since the caster could have put it in anything such as a music box or a teddy bear.

 

Shea sighed tiredly into the emptiness of the room and paused for a split second before angrily throwing the book in front of her a crossed the room. It landed with a thud and something went clang but truthfully she couldn't find it in her to care much. Her killing curse colored eyes were narrowed as she tried to find a way to talk to Tom before she 'came to die'. He wouldn't listen to her if she went to speak with him in the forbidden forest now, a move that everyone expected her to do including her soul mate. The urge to sigh heavily was held back as she let her magic lash out to search the books for the answer to her problems, and a slightly insane smile curved itself on her lips as she finally found the book she was looking for.

 

" _Sssoon_." She hissed under her breath in parseltongue, as if to make a promise to any one who was listening even though no one besides her was in the house, "Thingsss will change."

 

Oh, they will all soon know just what kind of sleeping monster they decided to poke.


	2. Dying Embers

The bright, deadly color of Avada Kedavra slowly moved from the thick ancient dark arts book to the cauldron that held a liquid of a dark purple. A hand slowly picked up a vial of a rich thick silver liquid and bit her lip as she studied it. There was no going back as soon as she took one drop of this potion into her body, but then again that was the point. There was really nothing to go back to. All the people that cared for her, Hermione included, were dead. Ron wouldn't understand what she was doing, he wanted her to go to her death, to give up the horcrux that was laced through her after so many years.

 

If - no when she did this, she knew that many would never understand her reasoning. It was almost hilarious. All her life, Shea had been dictated, manipulated, and now that she was doing something for herself...

 

Tom wouldn't listen. He was too far gone to listen to a word she would have spoken to him. The Horcruxes did such a number on his soul, on his psych as well, that he most likely wouldn't believe her, even if he listened to what she had to say.

 

And cue the potion she was making, the answer to her problems. It was called Tempus Remedium, an elixir, brewed by one of the founders of House Black. Allowing the drinker to displace themselves in time. However, the potion came with a heavy price. For when she takes the first sip, the potion will take part of her life span, as well as her death for the jump. If she took it and didn't find a place to jump through, her body would give out and the magic would be wasted. The further back she went, every few years would start to damage her magical core. Her soul, knowledge and the horcrux inside of her would remain intact.

 

It was desperate, Shea knew that much already but she still was taking a chance. Still wanted happiness and that wasn't here, in this time. She steeled herself before opening the vial of silver and slowly poured it into the cauldron, stirring it once clockwise with a long wooden spoon, and smirked softly when it turned a pale lavender color, it was supposed to be.

 

Shea cautiously poured the potion into a goblet, before tending to the other potion she was making. One would heal damaged cores. The potion was very complex, but when it slowly started to steam, she knew that she had done it to perfection. She was making enough for two, not only for herself but for someone else in mind, that needed it just as much as she was going to. Even with the potion though, her life span would still be cut. The key ingredient made that to be a side effect, as there was a reason why only the horn and tail of a unicorn were approved to be used.

 

"As soon as a drop of unicorn blood touches your lips, you lead a half life. A cursed life."Firenze told her back in her first year, and while she took his words to heart.. Shea had immediately decided upon discovering over this worn, yellow page, that she didn't care for the moment. She could later on blood adopt herself into a family of her choosing, and find a way to stop from dying. That was the plan anyway.

 

Shea moved quickly to Sirius's room, the one she was currently staying in. Throwing on her solid black wizarding travel robe, over her loose black pants and corset like top, and lacing up her knee high dragon hide boots. She tied her blood red hair up in a black ribbon, before enveloping it in her hood. Shielding what she knew would easily be recognized, amongst a crowd. She figured she already had such a large target on her back, and knew she needed to be prepared for the worst case scenario.

 

She grabbed her bottomless bag of coins, her most treasured books, her invisibility cloak, the Marauders map, and the resurrection stone, hidden inside of the first snitch she ever caught. Between her fingertips, she lightly grasped her wand, then gazed up at the full length mirror across from her. Eyes locked on her porcelain profile, Shea had to smirk a little. Even though the situation didn't call for it, that a young Sirius Black stressed enough on his appearance, to vainly hang a full length mirror in his room. It was both amusing and heartbreaking.

 

That half-hearted smirk instantly turned into a frown, at the longing that engulfed her insides, when she thought of her beloved godfather. Did Sirius, wherever he rested after death, understand why she was doing this? Did her mother or father? "I'm sorry.."Shea sighed under her breath as she spoke these words, wondering if they were still here with her. Looking down on her in disappointment? Were they saddened? Horrified? An uncomfortable feeling settled in her gut, forcing her to lower her eyes and clench her jaw tightly. Out of the corner of her eyes, she gazed at the happy picture of her mother and father, along with Remus and Sirius. It was taken sometime after their Hogwarts years.

 

"I have to do this. I love you.."Tears stung in her eyes as she saw all of them laughing and goofing around with one another, happily. A smile broke through from underneath the blank expression she worked so hard to keep, as she remembered Severus Snape had once said the next word she forced out of her mouth.

 

Completely unknown to her, her mother in fact stood tall and proud next to her child. There to see, hear, smile, cry and swear angrily over everything that her baby girl had went through. Lily didn't approve of a lot of things that happened in her little Shea's life, one being that Dumbledore used her to defeat the monster that he himself created. She may not like the darker side of Shea that grew because of such actions, but Lily could understand her reasoning for it. She gave up her life so her daughter could live her own. Even make her own mistakes along the way and live. Lily knew she would sacrifice her life all over again, if she had to. With a sad glint in her eyes, Lily echoed her daughter's one last word before she left the room. "Always."

 

Whispering a simple Notice-me-not and a few protective charms on her bottomless bag that was tied to her waist, securing everything she would need for this last adventure. Shea moved toward the goblet, in her hands cradling the elixir that would be both her hell and her salvation. She gently pulled the Black heir ring off of her finger, dropping it cautiously into the potion. It made a weighty clinking sound as it hit the bottom.

 

The elixir went down her throat as easily as acid would, but Shea forced herself to keep drinking. Until at last, she reached the bottom, revealing her treasured ring, with it&s engravings lit alight by the purple of the potion. Her fingers clawed the table in front of her, trying to reach for something - anything- to stop the pain, that pulsed through her entire body, from her stomach all the way up to her heart. Her chest felt like there was a weight on top of it, while the only thing that kept her from falling was the old English writing desk, as her legs felt boneless in support of her body. She couldn't even blink, at the sound of the goblet and ring crashing to the floor. After all how could she try to concentrate, when her heart pounded like a hammer against her ribcage?

 

Black spots attacked her vision while her head began to spin dizzily, making her lean it against her arms to try to stop the nauseous feeling in it's tracks. She felt like she drank a few bottles of Fire Whiskey and was just now feeling the after effects. Sweet Morgana... She groaned mentally to herself, staying exactly in the position she was in - with her head resting on her arms and her upper body strewn overtop the table - until the pain began to slowly ebb away.

 

She hesitantly moved her body upright, making sure she was strong enough to both stand and walk when she deemed herself fit. Shea grabbed her phoenix feather wand, silently casting a spell to light the fireplace. Embers glinted back at her instantly, relieved that it hadn't altered her magical core yet, or at the very least, too much that she was unable to use her magic.

 

The Black family ring was gently slipped on her right ring finger, magically shrinking down to size. As the magic made the leftover residue from the potion, disappear right before her eyes. It's time to move. Shea thought through clenched teeth, as she quickly ran towards the fireplace. The clock had already begun it's countdown.

 

...

 

Dodge.

 

Side step.

 

Curse. Curse.

 

Shield.

 

Repeat.

 

Shea knew it wasn't exactly going to be easy getting to The Veil but she also didn't think that it would be as easy as it was the first five minutes she stepped foot through the Floo. There wasn't a person in sight and her instincts were screaming at her that there was something wrong, something that should have her turning back. Except there wasn't anything to go back to. Either way, if she did this or not, she was dead.

 

If she did this, she would have Tom.

 

They would have a second chance.

 

"Hey!"An 'Auror' that could very well be a death eater, yelled out from behind her. It made her pause ever so slightly, before turning and cursing him with a nonverbal spell. Which had the effect of an overdose on the Draught of living death. He fell immobile with a resounding thud on the hard tile floor, and Shea moved toward the direction she knew The Veil resided. Burned into her memories, after she was sent to get the prophecy to 'save' Sirius.

 

She wasn't going to let anyone stand in her way from getting to The Veil. Nobody, not even her unsuspecting mate that was to far gone. As soon as she stepped foot in the shadows though, an magnification spell used was on another male voice somewhere near where she left his fellow Auror, "INTRUDER ALERT!"

 

Shea smirked widely to herself, her clothing blending perfectly in the shadows, as she ran silently to the place she needed to be. Oh, yes. This was going to be fun. Shea only hoped that it they would make it a challenge for her.

 

A challenge she got, for when she entered the wide room that held The Veil, Shea had to side step quickly out of the way when a bright red beam of power cut through the air where she once stood. Leaving a black scorch mark on the wall, where she previously stood. A familiar evil crackle filled the silence, making the hair on the back of Shea's neck stand up at the sound as rage vibrated through her. She turned, locked eyes with the insanely glinted silver. For standing there mockingly, in all her 'glory' stood Bellatrix Lestrange.

 

"What's the matter, itty bitty baby Potter?" Bellatrix made her voice 'sorrowful' as she said the word 'baby' and held insult in her voice, as she spoke Shea's last name. Taunting the younger girl in between the curses that fell from her lips. "Done with the heroine gig already? But you're finally act is almost up!" Laughing maniacally, in between curses. "Don't you want to give your adoring little fans closure? Isn't that rule number one of the hero code! Aside from your foolish Gryffindork bravery, or course. Instead you're here, waiting to be killed, like my blood traitor of a cousin?"

 

Bellatrix taunted her with a dangerously wide smirk, knowing well how painful it was for Shea when it happened. Still though the older, insane woman wasn't maiming or trying to kill, Shea realized with a start. Bellatrix wasn't just taunting her either. She was stalling.

 

Shea's eyes glinted with the spell Bellatrix used to kill Sirius, and the others before him. She still remembered painfully how, right beside where she stood, Sirius had fallen to his death. Shea's mouth twisted in a silent snarl, quickly aiming the woman that she hated with her entire being, right alongside Dumbledore. The woman in front of her was going to pay dearly for killing Sirius. Pay with the last breath of life, in her decrepit body.

 

A spell of 'Aviso' was wordlessly cast making her smirk, as the metallic silver color hit Bellatrix full on. A few seconds went by with nothing happening until Bellatrix's body temperature grew hotter and hotter. Until finally, her face began sweating and lava seemed to be pulsing through her veins. A startled gasp fell from Bellatrix's thin, chapped lips as the older woman fell to the floor, her body twitching in pain.

 

"Oh but Bella.." Shea glared down at her, spitting out Voldemort's pet name for her like it was a bad taste in her mouth, "It's not just my final act coming up. For if I am going to die.. you are coming with me." With a wavy of her hand, Shea smirked when she felt Bellatrix's magic dwindle. Rapidly draining from her body, and would leave her as nothing more, than a something the woman ever so 'righteously' hated.. A muggle. It would have worked if magical beings didn't need their magical cores to survive.

 

"The ones we love never truly leave us.."

 

Those last eight words echoed in her mind, strengthening her as she dodged yet another curse, this one a dark cutting curse, and shot a curse of her own. Even with the fight around her, these people wanting her head on a silver platter for Tom, she never lost sight of what she was here for. Each step she took was one to The Veil, however which way you looked at it. Dodging, side stepping, jumping over the bodies of death eaters - it didn't matter, it all was in the direction she had to be.

 

She couldn't waste any time, for the potion only allowed her twenty minutes. Out of that twenty, she had only five minutes left.

 

A ticking sound echoing through the barriers of her mind and The Black heir ring on her finger immediately warmed with warning, as letting her know every minute that passed. Just when she was finally in front of it, the almost invisible wavy sheet in the archway glinting underneath the light above them, did she feel the scar on her forehead burn. Bringing a faint smile to her lips.

 

Tom finally had come.

 

She supposed a death eater must have called for him. For through a spiral of black smoke, he appeared a short distance away from her. His red eyes blinking with shock. An emotion she had never would have guessed he felt, at some of the dead bodies of his followers. The alive ones closing in on her, wands trained dangerously on her form.

 

That's right Tom, 'the golden girl' isn't so golden after all.

 

His snake like appearance was a sad cry from Tom Riddle from the diary, from the memories of him as a young boy. She wondered what happened to him but knew where she was going she could change a lot more than that.

 

Four.

 

Shea counted herself lucky that she used the Room of Requirement to train herself and build up her strength otherwise she would no doubt be a panting mess right about now. That the death eaters couldn't kill her since that was a job for their master. "You won't miss me Tom." She said knowingly, almost cheekily to him, making him look weary and angered at her as he lifted his yew wand up at her. She suspected he was wondering why she came here of all places, why she was standing in front of The Veil comfortably as if she wasn't in the least bit worried.

 

Two.

 

"I'll make sure of it." Shea promise darkly, and it seemed that Tom had enough of her not making any sense for he lifted his wand to deliver the final killing blow. Truthfully, she was surprised he even let her speak. Just when the killing curse cut through the air towards her with it's deadly intent, did Shea take a chance to jump back. Her body falling through the archway just a second after the spell spoke again in warning.

 

One..


	3. In between life and death

No one knows for sure exactly what happens when you die. If you see your loved ones or not. If you can feel, or hear anything around you. If you're simply.. well, dead. Shea couldn't help but find such a thing comical, when she was alive. Deep down, she always believed people should live for the now. Only worry over what's right in front of them, rather than fear something as unpredictable as death.

 

Multiple times throughout her childhood, Shea found herself right outside death's door. At the hands of the Dursley's, she suffered years of extensive abuse. She often would pray, an angel would come and rescue her. That a wondering teacher at school, would simply ask. As a child, she didn't understand why she could do no right, while her cousin, Dudley was praised for the simplest of tasks. But she wasn't the princess in Dudley's old childhood stories. Locked helplessly in a tall tower, waiting for their prince to save them.

 

No, Shea Potter chose to make her own destiny. Despite her abuse, at the place she was forced to call 'home', she lived everyday knowing that one day, one day she would be free from her confines. Upon entering the Wizarding World, she discovered two things. The first; that her mother's sacrifice, against all odds, allowed her body to rebound one of the most powerful curses in existence. Killing a man, whom was responsible for hundreds of innocent deaths. This alone led to Light families across the country to speak her name in wide eyed wonder.

 

The second; being that families who had any connection to the Dark or pure-blooded ideology, saw her as an attention seeking brat, with a heroine complex. Shea refused to comment on their ignorant thoughts. Let them think what they wanted of her, as only a true friend would bother to look beyond her 'golden girl' persona.

 

From the ashes, she rose like a Phoenix reborn. As a Queen,and through it all she had it handled. With her undeniable thirst for knowledge, she studied the Hogwarts curriculum with close to obsession.

 

She felt the others' eyes follow her every movement, as though waiting for her to fall from grace. To show some form of weakness, that would make her, but human. Shea wasn't the savior they hailed her as, on that Halloween night. Which so effectively set the course, of her life onward. Not many people were still alive, that knew the realher. As such, she refusedto go out with anything less than a bang. Shattering that cursed Savior Pedestal, while she was at it.

 

...

 

Shea held tight to the hope she would see her parents and Sirius, one last time. To say everything, she was never given opportunity to. To hold her mother and father, as they were denied all those years before. To look into Sirius' eyes one last time and tell him how much he did right by her. She didn't know what to expect, as she had fallen through that archway. Suddenly she was overcome with this explosive lack of color. Blinded by pure white. Voices floated over to her, echoing from somewhere in the distance. Yet they were too faint, to fully distinguish what they were saying.

 

That gut-wrenching first thought, that filled her with doubt. Maybe.. just maybe.. they were right. Maybe the ones who thought her to be mad, were right after all.

 

"No.. Shea."Hermione turned her body to look her friend in the eye with worry after The Chamber of Secrets had been opened."..Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn't a good sign."

 

Hermione.. Shea's heart ached, as she remembered her friend, who'd always stood by her through it all. No matter what. Where were her friends and family? Was she too late? Had they found their peace?

 

Another question filtered into her mind. Running in circles with no hint of escaping.. Was she meant to be alone.. even in death? It didn't seem fair to her. She had expected something to happen. Something to make up for the horrors, she had to face all throughout her life. Didn't she deserve this?

 

Seconds felt like they dragged on into hours, and just when Shea was starting to lose any hope.. she began to hear a faint whirring sound, from far away. As it grew closer, the sound began to echo. Reverberating off the walls around us, which, as I turned, I began to see beautiful concave white marble walls enclosing around me. The noise grew, until it shook the floor beneath my feet, causing me to turn back. Just in time to be nearly swept off my feet, by the gale force-like wind ripping through the tunnel, right in front of me.

 

Tints of soft silvers, light grays, baby blues, and off shades of white began to leak through the blinding white tunnel around her. As pigment bled into her surroundings, she looked down to see herself standing in a sea of train tracks. Kings Crossing..? Shea mentally questioned with wonder and curiosity. But no, all tracks out of here, lead in one direction.

 

How did I get here? It was strange to her. To see a train station, so like the one that took her to Hogwarts every year. Without the lively color, of course. Just thinking of the Hogwarts Express brought a smile to her face. Even memories of nearly being killed by that dementor, couldn't shake the quirk from her lips. For that day, was just the beginning of her year, with Remus as her mentor. She sighed, after reminiscing. Shaking her head, to clear it. But no, this station was empty of sounds, shiny red and black trains, and life. So very unlike, what she remembered.

 

She bit her lip, trying to swallow the feeling that resided in her stomach .. until suddenly the hair on the back of her neck slowly stood up on end. Her instincts kicked in then, telling her that she wasn't as alone as she previously thought. Shea tilted her head slowly to the side, her eyes searching the air around her, before she abruptly turned her body to look behind her.

 

Her bright green eyes blinked a few times in disbelief, before slowly starting to sting with tears. She had to be dreaming. There was no possible way, that what she was seeing was real. Things didn't ever work out the way she wanted it to. So why would it start, now?

 

Standing tall, a beautiful woman that looked like an older version of herself, smiled softly at Shea. Her fiery red hair swept out in the most graceful of waves. It's color a few shades lighter than her own, but their resemblance could not be denied. Standing tall, only a few feet away from her.

 

"Hello sweetheart." The voice from the woman was soft, as she reached out a delicate hand in offering. Making Shea force her feet to move forward, cautiously across the platform. She stopped just a few inches away from her outstretched hand, to lift her own. Surprised when she actually felt the warm smooth pads, under her fingertips. Grasping that hand, as though it was her only lifeline in this world. Without it, she would fall back down to Earth, shattering upon impact.

 

Upturning her face to gaze up into eyes, the color of emeralds. The same eyes that she looked into every day, in her reflection. But these, they held such compassion, love, in just a look. This was actually happening... wasn't it?

 

The smile directed at her widened in happiness, while the hand that wasn't grasping hers, own came up to push away the tears that were streaming down Shea's cheeks. The inside of her throat suddenly felt raw and clogged. As though these bittersweet tears, were trying to silence her from speaking. Shea pushed onward, to force out one word. In a voice that held too many emotions to identify.

 

"...Mum?"

 

"Yes, my beautiful little warrior." Her arms enclosed Shea tightly, as though to never let go. Her eyes closed tightly, as more tears slipped out from them. As if a dam had opened, ready to drown them, if she let it. She couldn't believe the feelings that were filtering, through every inch of her body. She had never before felt such warmth. Felt this emotion, that made her feel as though her body was floating away.

 

Finally, they leaned back to stare back into each others' eyes. "Mother…I.." She could scarcely think which thought to voice first. "I'm so sorry." Her mother just looked heartbreakingly down at her. "I was the reason that you and dad…" I sniffled. "And I gave up. I just couldn't do it anymore. Be the person, they made me out to be."

 

"What are you apologizing for, Shea?" She spoke clearly confused, by my avid apologies spilling out of my lips. "You were everything you were meant to be. And more." My heart didn't want to believe those words, but gazing up into her honest orbs, I knew she spoke the truth.

 

A hand came down to grasp my shoulder lightly, and I knew who it was, before I even turned around. My mother's eyes told me exactly who's hand, rested on my shoulder. Chuckling while he spoke. "Now, in school, your mother was known to stretch the truth, once or twice, to get Siri and I out of trouble. But little doe, I know she is telling the truth now."

 

Looking up at my dad in wonder. Standing there, looking down at her with laughter in his eyes, stood James Potter. Her father, who at such a time, knew laughter would be just what she needed to hear. Before Shea could so much as think to wrap her arms around him, another voice rang out through the tunnel. Making them all turn to face him, at the same time.

 

"If you think I'm going to stand here.." Shea's heart knew that voice. It echoed through the halls of Black Manor, everyday. That voice must have visited me in my dreams hundreds of times. "..and listen to you tell Shea stories about our glory days, without me! You are a flying monkey." Sirius jabbed a finger at James's chest to add emphasis to his last words. They both riotously broke out in laughter, before James tackled my godfather. Leaving Sirius to croak out; "NOT THE HAIR!"

 

At this point, she didn't know who was laughing harder, her mum or herself.

 

"They are utterly ridiculous." A voice called out bemusedly, shocking Shea out of her amused stance. A familiar head of wavy auburn hair stood right beside her. Arms crossed across her chest, shaking her head amusedly. Despite trying to keep a straight expression, her warm brown eyes just danced in humor, and her lips then slipped into a cheeky grin. Sounds of struggle could still be heard from the boys, in front of them.

 

"Hermione!" Was the only word choked out, before taking her into a tight bear hug. The two could scarcely be called anything short of sisters, at that point. They'd stood side-by-side, through thick and thin. Whether it was figuring out how to snub Draco Malfoy in any intellectual manner, or just talking under one of their Gryffindor red and gold canopied beds, long into the night. Whether it was Shea defending Hermione's blood status to pure-blooded imbeciles, or Hermione standing by her to fight Voldemort and an army of Death Eaters. They showed no fear.

 

"I saw you giving them hell." She took a step back to gaze at Shea with pride. "We were all watching." She waves at the group. "Your mother said, you couldn''t have made her more proud." They all laughed, as Lily joined them.

 

"Everyone thinks you get your wit and dueling skills from James, but we know who here is the realbrains of the bunch." As she waves her hand toward her childhood friend, and husband. Sirius now had James glasses in one hand, holding them out of reach. While holding James in a choke-hold. Teasing him animatedly, as James hits him in the nether regions. Causing Sirius to drop his hold on his glasses. Her father swooping them up and jogging over to the women, with a boyish grin on his face.

 

"Lils, did you tell her who else stopped by for a visit, before deciding he had quote unquote 'more important matters'to attend to? The brass!" Sirius runs up behind him, giving him a well placed smack on that disarrayed head of dark locks. Before agreeing wholeheartedly.

 

"Why Prongs, we ought to chase Moony down, and drag his brainy arse back here! Wife or no wife!" They broke out in hysterical giggles, like a bunch of school-girls.

 

James feeling empowered saluted his childhood ally and partner in crime, yelling out: "Aye Padfoot! We are on a mission, to dislodge a broomstick from an arse!" Grins cheekily to Sirius and Shea, before being slapped uptop the head by Lily. Followed by Sirius getting the same treatment. Whom looked fairly displeased.

 

"Language." She grumbled, waving her hand threateningly. Both boys gave her decent apologies, not wanting another slap. Before smirking to each other. Not put out, in the least.

 

Hermione and Shea just looked at each other in shock. It looked as though, they never left Severus Snape's reign. They could clearly remember him doing something very similar, back in their fourth year to The Weasley could clearly see where he got his ideas. That brought quite an amused air to her.

 

"Why if I didn't know any better, I'd make some parallels between her and a certain mother of mine." A voice said slyly from behind the group. There leaning casually next to a column, stood Fred. Wearing a bright yellow suit, with a navy blue striped shirt. Feet crossed in a lackadaisical manner, and if her eyes weren't deceiving her, wearing a pair of blue dragonhide leather boots.

 

Lily was barely given enough time to allow for full steam ahead, to spew forth out of her ears, at the offensive remark. Shea didn't think Lily thought highly of Molly Weasley and her dealings with Dumbledore, behind their daughter's back. That thought comforted her.

 

"Fortunately, I doknow better than to make such gross miscalculations, pertaining to their both likeness, and love for parietal bashing." Assuring Shea that his witty sense of humor was still going strong. That the war didn't leave him damaged beyond repair, after being separated from George. That he was, going to be alright.

 

"Been reading the dictionary again, eh Weasley?" Sirius taunted him in return.

 

"Been reading the Maraude's Highlights again, Black?" Fred sent right back

 

"Why you little…" Shea didn't even bother trying to catch whatever the hell likeness Sirius was giving him between a Slytherin and a thief. Last she caught was something about him being an ungrateful prat, with slippery fingers after stealing their map! Grumbling with James about that last bit. She knew they had had it confiscated at some time during their final year, and had apparently stillnot stopped groaning about it.

 

"I wouldn't be hesitant to give it to you Puppy Toes, if you weren't so stingy as to not let me in on what spell you used!"

 

"CHILDREN!" Lily boomed. A vein protruded from her temple and her normally peaceful visage, took on a thunderous expression. "If I hear one more wordout of either of you, about that damn map, I will tell everyonehere what you were doing, when you lost that map James Potter."

 

"You wouldn't." James looked aghast at his wife.

 

"What the hell is she on about Prongs?" Sirius raised a brow at him. "You said it got confiscated by Lazy Eyed Werner, when he was doing his evening rounds. Said he had you cornered up on the third floor, if memory serves. Wily old git."

 

"Oh, he was cornered all right. But it was not on the third floor, I'll tell you that much." Lily looks significantly at James, silently threatening him with having to endure Sirius's eternal mockery, should he carry on like he was.

 

"Of course, Lily darling."


	4. Always

Shea couldn't help but stare between both of her parents in amusement. Everything that everyone told her about them, every fragment that she imagined their personality having - was spot on.

 

James Potter was the comical prankster with a huge heart and practically radiated protective instincts from the depths of his soul for the ones that he loved. He stood there only a few minutes ago, proud and playful, with dark messy hair and hazel, loving orbs. Now, however, he was looking at her mother with a sheepish, pleading look that begged her silently not to say anything.

 

Lily Evans - Potter was beautiful and curvy with her own amusement concealed behind the seriousness, that almost dominated her beautiful eyes brightly shining. A promise in them that she would no doubt carry through with such a threat, if there was anymore talk about the map.

 

Shea watched curiously as her father shuffled his feet before trying to change the conversation as slyly as he could, only when he tried Sirius cut him off with a look, "Are you really going to try to change the subject Prongs?You should know better that.. besides, now I reallywant to know."

 

James shook his head with an almost pained expression, the sharp movements flinging his messy black locks side to side frantically at his best friend's teasing tone of voice.

 

"Just let it go, Padfoot."His own voice now taking on a tone that was a mixture of a plea and a demand.

 

Sirius narrowed his silver eyes, standing in front of James with his arms crossed. The expectant expression on his full, healthy face that he didn't obtain when he was alive due to his imprisonment in Azkaban, made James sigh in defeat. He knew very well, no matter how much he didn't want to talk about it because it was just so embarrassing, Sirius wouldn't let it go until he got an answer.

 

"Later." That one word seemed to satisfy Sirius.. for the moment at least. Sirius seemed to come back into focus, remembering that they were on a time limit here and his playful expression twisted into one that copied his first name. He looked at Shea with an expression on his face that was so familiar, so full of love and support, that it felt like it twisted her heart until it bled and then dropped itself tiredly into her stomach.

 

Shea watched with wide eyes that were slowly starting to fill with tears as Sirius slowly lifted his hands from his sides, arms outstretched in her direction. Before she even knew what she was doing, her body launched itself into his arms. The soft texture of the black robes he wore rested against her left cheek, warm even though none of their hearts were beating.

 

The smell that engulfed her senses comforted Shea as well as making her mentally chant that she would not cry, it was pointless though as tears began to sting her wide, bright eyes. It was only because of her struggling self control that she didn't bawl and curl up like a child that she suddenly felt like.

 

"It's okay, pup. It's okay." Sirius repeated as his voice softened from it's usually loud and playful tone, trying to sooth her tense muscles as his large, worn hands rubbed gentle circles on her back. He hugged her tightly, protectively, to his body. In this position, she was curled up into him with his head resting softly on top of her own, and slowly all thoughts left her mind. Chased away by the comforting scent and feel of being in Sirius' arms once again, it seemed like she was like this for only a few seconds before his voice cut through the fogginess that seemed to spontaneously engulf her mind without her knowledge. "Let it go, Shea. None of us blame you."

 

The stinging tears fell from her eyes at those words and she was unable to continue the fight to push them back. Her body began to shake with near silent sobs as her tears leaked through the black robes that were pressed against her. Relief and sadness were the most dominant emotions she currently felt, the two of them contradicting one another but she couldn't help but feel one just as strongly as the other. She felt such a relief that they didn't blame her for their deaths but at the same time she almost wished they should.

 

She never wanted anyone to die for her, especially her friends and family. She promised herself that she would make things better for everyone that she loved. Filled with those thoughts and the determination that came with them, Shea ever so slowly picked her head up to look Sirius in the eye. She found herself caught in the mixture of longing, love and sadness that his silver eyes held, his mouth twisted into an almost frown.

 

"We never left your side, you know?" The signs of the frown that would have curled on his lips was erased before it had a chance to fully form. Instead his lips were forced to twitch into a small smile with his eyes reflecting the whirlwind of emotions he felt within him, "None of us did. We were there with you through it all, even if you couldn't see us. No matter what happens from here on, know that even though we all have mixed feelings about things, we still understand. We still support you and we will always be in here.."

 

The smile stretched a little wider before leaving Sirius' face as the pointer finger of his left hand pointed to her heart, the action making her heart feel even heavier than it once was as Shea's mind brought the conversation that those last six words were attached to. "Just like you will always be in ours."

 

"I'm really hesitant to say this," James stepped forward with a cheeky grin on his lips, "Not because I will regret saying it but because all of us here can truthfully say, without a shadow of doubt, that Sirius' ego doesn't need to get any larger.." The teasing in his voice echoed slightly in the silence around them, as almost everyone nodded their heads softly in agreement, acting like they didn't hear the disgruntled 'Oi!' that Sirius gave in return along with the pout that quickly formed and pushed his bottom lip on display.

 

As her father stopped in front of her, the cheeky grin that was on his face softly as he slowly raised his hands to delicately cup the soft angles that lined her face, "But.. Sirius is right." The grin was back as the happy 'woot woot!' noise that Sirius let out instantly reached their ears. "We love you, Shea.. we always will. You turned out to be everything that your mother and I hoped for you to be. Strong, loyal, and smart. You are not evil, Shea, I know that very well. Never mistake being strong and vengeful against forces that aim to manipulate and then kill you - as evil."

 

James, for the first time since he held her when she was only a small toddler and his little fawn, drew his daughter into a hug. In his seemingly heavy arms that held her in their tight grasp, did Shea feel like she was about to start crying again.

 

"I think in the timeline that you are heading to, there is another Sirius Black there." Sirius allowed a small puff of air to escape his lips, speaking only when the father and daughter part, "If memory serves right, since I never bothered to pay much attention to the Black tapestry. Though you know very well that nobody, even a member of the 'Ancient and most noble house of Black,', can even come close to this."

 

Sirius acted mock arrogantly as he gestured to his body that he should have had when he was alive, getting his desired effect when Shea grinned at him while others rolled their eyes in humor much more than irritation, "However.. I never got to adopt you like I wanted to. Never let myself really live and love you, like I wish I could have done. Like you deserved. I was blinded by rage and anguish when your parents died that.."

 

His expression became tint with sadness before she grabbed one of his hands with her own, to offer him the same level of comfort that he always willingly gave that never failed to make her feel better. The look on her face telling him silently that she didn't blame him one bit, and it made the corner of his lips twitch upwards. With newfound strength Sirius continued, "I named you my heir when we were both alive, it seems only fitting that you live your life as the daughter of a man who my mother dearest stole the name of to give to me. You have the heir ring and one of the books you brought with you has a blood adoption potion that will not only adopt you as a black but will alter the memories of the family you have chosen.."

 

Siriuspaused after seeing the shocked expressions around him, before adopting an exhausted expression and shrugging his shoulders at all of them, "What?! I was looking into it when I was alive to protect Shea.."

 

It was Lily who answered him, a fond smile curving on her lips as she looked at him, "Nothing, nothing. We are all just.. surprised. You actually opened a book for the first time in years. After spending your days at Hogwarts avoiding the library as if it was a plague. Those long nights when all of Gryffindor House heard you groaning that you had to 'endure' homework. When you had to read 'pages upon pages' and answer endless questions regarding what you read. Because neither Remus, nor I would give you our answers. Not to mention of course that the book belongs to your family, that you hated with a passion ever since you were young.."

 

The look of irritation and of being insulted slowly ebbed away from the expression Sirius wore, as he found nothing but truth in what she said, before he nodded firmly. "Be that as it may though, Shea is my goddaughter, my pup. I would do anything to keep her safe."Under the bemused, kind eyes of Lily and James, Sirius cleared his throat to get back on track to what he was saying. He turned his head to Shea, one of his left hand disappeared into one of the front pockets of his robe before pulling out two small potion vials that the bright lights around them reflected upon the glasses that held a dark red liquid. "To be blood adopted by a Black you need the key component of that: Blood. With the heir ring and one of these, I am giving you two just in case, and you will have a little less than half of what you need for the blood adoption potion."

 

A soft smile, full of both sadness and grief etched it's way onto her face as she felt Sirius gently put the twin potion vials filled with his blood into one of her hands, forcing her fingers to hold onto the tightly. She felt like crying again, when she did this it would be like pushing a restart button. Her parents, Sirius, Hermione and all the others she held close to her heart.. wouldn't remember her. Still though, she would change things. They all would be happier, and live a long life..

 

Still though, a heavy exhaled breath fell from her lips and through blurry vision she could make out Sirius' form still in front of her as comforting arms wrapped around her from behind, "Maybe she needs some much needed girl time before.."Lily murmured softly before directing her daughter's form to one of the benches, just a little bit away from where they were speaking.

 

James nodded silently, a sad yet loving glint in his eyes as he watched the mother and daughter pair start walking away from them with Hermione hesitantly shuffled along with them, being forced by Lily's hand that wrapped around her small wrist with a gentle firm grip.

 

"Soo.." James turned his head slowly, in hesitation, to see both Fred and Sirius suddenly on the left side of him. Their stances of almost back to back, heads tilted to the side and their eyes as wide as they could stretch were too terrifyingly similar. James took in their devilishly, toothy grins that almost split their faces, before throwing his head back and groaned, "You said 'later'.. it's now 'later', Prongs.."

 

"Er.. it may or may not..."James stuttered with an air of embarrassment around him while trying to cover it up with a lazy, offhand manor.

 

"Yesss?" Sirius all but cooed teasingly at his friend, watching with amusement as James simply sighed in defeat, the action making his grin widen.

 

...

 

Lily snickered softly when she heard her husband groan, before taking a seat in the middle of the two younger girls, wrapping an arm around each girl to pull them closer to her, "You know, sweethearts, it's okay to cry. It's not a sign of weakness, to properly grieve for something or another. Both of your lives had been training for battle, for war. Your childhoods were stripped away from you, I say that the both of you deserve some time to deal with it. The both of you are strong individuals, so loyal to each other.."

 

Lily softly kissed the side of both of their foreheads - Hermione first with a whispered 'thank you' for looking out of her daughter, for being there for her when she needed someone to understand before Lily kissed Shea's temple that was closest to her gently, "I love you sweetheart, we all do. In this life and surely in the next, no matter what may happen. There are some things I can't say I liked.. but this is your second chance sweetheart. A chance at love, freedom.. a chance to set right all the wrongs that happened to us. I want - I need - for you to take it. To find happiness."

 

It was silent for a few seconds a side from the laughter that came from the three men, making Lily look casually over at them and snicker again, this time louder. James stood awkwardly with a faint blush dusted on his cheeks, with Sirius and Fred clutching their sides since they were laughing so hard. "You girls want to know how James lost the map?" A smile curved onto her lips, as she took notice that Shea curled into her like a little child. Lily ran a hand through her hair and even though she knew their time was almost up, she refused to leave on a sad note.

 

The question, much to Lily's amusement, got the immediate attention of both girls. She then went on to tell the tale of the time that James snuck into the girl's dormitory, flying his broom in to get away from the magically sliding stairs that happened whenever a boy tried such a thing. How he got caught and ended up being bombarded by the group of angry, sleep deprived hormonal girls. How they had levitated him, stunned &disarmed to Mr. Werner and thatwas the true story of how James Potter had lost the marauders map. By the time Lily was only half done with the story, the girls were grinning up at her, their bodies shaking in barely concealed laughter.

 

Sitting there, Shea almost didn't want to leave. She wanted to hang on to them tightly and never let go, however she was forced to remember the ultimate goal in her mind. A loud ticking echoed around them, making Shea blink up at the large, round clock that she just noticed hanging high up on the bricks.. Only, Shea's eyebrows threatened to pull together in confusion as she stood up from the bench to look at it a little closer, there weren't any hands on the clock..

 

How..?

 

"Our time is running out.. quickly." Hermione answered her unasked, mental question and Shea's eyes widened in horror, frantically thinking, No, I need more time with them! Please?! Hermione smiled sadly in almost understanding before hugging her, "You'll see all of us again one day, it's not going to be forever. Thank you so much Shea, for not only being my first real friend, but becoming my honorary sister as well."

 

Once again, emotions seemed to clog her throat and made it almost impossible to speak. Her action however made up for it as she forced Hermione back into a hug, the curly dark brown haired girl giggling softly in happiness before she returned it. All too soon it seemed, the two drew away. Shea turned to look at teared filled eyes of those around her when suddenly guilty hit her and settled in her stomach. Really.. who was she to keep them from finding peace?

 

"Don't worry." James pressed a kiss in the middle of her forehead that tingled, hugging her tightly before he moved away, "I love you, doe."

 

"Move out of the way, Prongs." Sirius' voice was just as playful as it was warm, reaching to Shea's ears just a second before he pulled her into a hug. "He means 'WE' in that sentence. We love you."He laid a soft kiss on her cheek before taking her and sending her spinning playfully in Lily's direction, who helped stabilized her dizzy daughter before shooting a death glare at him, only to soften it when he visibly cringed. A look sent his way told him that she truly wasn't half as angry as what that look may have seemed like.

 

"Yes."Lily smiled down sadly at her daughter, hugging her even tighter when Shea admitted ever so softly that she didn't want to let go. "I know sweetheart, I don't either. Nobody here wants to leave.. but things aren't like that. If we don't go our separate ways and find peace, we never will. The potion you took won't let you stay. Only one of us is staying here, waiting, we need to go Shea. Live life to the fullest, change things that will make the outcome better than what it was. Trust in yourself that you will make a difference just as much as we all trust and have unwavering faith in you. Never, ever, forget how much we love you."

 

"I love you too.."Eyes stinging with tears, Shea stared at each face around her etching it into her heart, "All of you."

 

Those words echoed on a constant loop as Shea watched through blurry vision as a shiny, white pearl colored train that slowly chugged into the station, the reflections of the station slowly mirroring itself of the glass windows that were lined in white gold as it appeared before them. The steam from where it stopped in front of her clouded her vision, she saw her father turn towards her from where he stopped just before he boarded the train, just like the other three beside him to wave goodbye at her. She forced herself to smile, tearfully, and wave goodbye back towards them.

 

And just when she thought she would be fine, that she will see them again.. Shea saw her father turn to Sirius with a sad, half smile curling his lips. She caught his voice softly saying two words fondly, yet it made her struggle to breathe regularly, "...Mischief Managed."

 

The tears she worked so hard to push back in an effort not to cry again, suddenly broke through. Her parents, Sirius and Hermione screamed goodbye at both her and Fred, a few mixtures of 'I love you!' put in somewhere in between. Her arms felt heavy and unresponsive at her sides as tears streamed down her face on their own accord. Arms held her upright, comfortingly even after the train disappeared from the station only after a few seconds.

 

She felt her body feeling like it was getting heavier by the second and she was thankful that Fred was here with her. "Thank you.."She forced out of her mouth, turning her head to look at him, "For everything. Every joke you guys made, every moment where both you and George were there for me.. I will miss you George the same for me the next time you see him, would you? I am going to fix everything.. I promise."

 

Fred took in the determined expression on her face with a smile curving on his own, &Of course. I want you to know that just like your parents, Sirius, and Hermione, I have faith in you too. I know, without a doubt in my mind, that you'll do just that. Just.. Is it too much to ask if you could please let us get away with somepranks if you are a teacher, since you fit the position so well when you taught us DA?"

 

A laugh bubbled from her lips as Shea looked up through the pain, that engulfed very muscle that she had in her body to spy the half teasing, half completely serious expression on Fred's face and that was the last thing she saw before her whole world tinted black.


	5. Refuge

The sun slowly began to rise from behind the darkened storm clouds that gathered from the fore night, shining upon Great Britain with the blinding rays that it possessed while lively shades of blue covered the sky from as far as the eye could see. This early morning the sun fought it's way through the trees to shed some light on a dingy little shack that was dark in color and near falling apart, just like it seemed to do every morning without fail.

Everything around the shack was heart stoppingly still. From the different kinds of trees bordering around the back of the shack, a dense forest and it's sleeping animal inhabitants. To the morbid graveyard, that resided only an estimated twenty-five feet shy of the front door.

To the outside world, no one apart from the graveyard's new caretaker knew that the ancient looking shack on top of the little hill held life anymore. Whispered rumors around town told of a family that once lived in the shack that overshadowed the creepy graveyard like the Grim Reaper waiting for his turn to gift death to every individual when their life had finally come to an end.

The father and son of this family were rumoured to be charged with the most unspeakable of crimes. Both were guessed to be rotting in prison cells right next to each other, and many people firmly thought that it served the both of them right. The mother of this family was thought to long be out of the picture, before the small town of Little Hangleton had even heard of this family. Any one who laid eyes on the two deranged men whom resided within, would have had the horrified thought that the woman was murdered by one - if not both - of them.

Children were cautiously warned to stay as far away as humanly possible from the family for their own safety, while parents privately said the most vile of things about the insane looking duo that made up this unusual family. However, no one would have guessed there was one other member of this family. An abused prisoner in the shack, that she was forced to call home. Dying to escape the madness that occurred within these walls.

Contrary to popular belief though, the sun finally shone through the tallest window pane that securely held glass in place that was thick with grime, creating a makeshift spotlight on the feminine figure inside. Only, the woman that sat on the end of her bed that was covered with the warm yet irritating material of wool.. didn't feel 'beautiful'. Merlin, she wasn't entirely sure she knew the meaning of the word. Never having ever been called such. Nevertheless, she was sure 'beautiful' women didn't wear the dull gray clothes, that she was forced to wear that were four sizes too big around her frame. The color blended in perfectly with the stone walls around her and she supposed that this was a defense mechanism, as much as it was a part of the abuse. Though, the phrase 'blend in with your surroundings' never did help her much, if any, over the years.

Her lips curved into a pained frown this morning though, and as much as she wanted to smile at the sunlight that greeted her eagerly, she couldn't really enjoy it as much as she wanted. Her body was as stiff as a board and hunched forwards in pain and defeat, emotions and a position that had become all too familiar to her throughout life occurrences. A pair of small, pale hands clenched tightly onto the worn blanket underneath her as she waited impatiently for the pain that ripped through her body to finally come to an end.

The young woman was by no means a stranger when it came to pain. Not while growing up in this 'house' with her two tormentors, that she was forced to call family. Certainly not with a damaged magical core, because of the said torment she was put through for years. It had been this way for as long as she dared to remember.

She gave in to the urge to close her heavy eyelids over her dark orbs that she possessed, which stared off in different directions with a look that made others think she was at the very least partly blind. It was the eyes she shared with her brother, a side effect of their father using the Cruciatus Curse on their mother while they were both in her womb. It was worse for her since she looked much like her mother and the fact that her brother was their father's son - both inside and out.

Her eyes began to sting with the tears that she desperately tried to push back as she once again felt more of a timid, cornered mouse in a snake tank with nowhere to hide, than a human being. The all consuming feeling of helplessness when you realize that even if you somehow manage to survive the unexpected curveball that life threw at you, the nearly impossible feat lies therein escaping the darkness that encompasses. For she would never be able to escape without bearing their marks. Burns, slashes, and bruises riddled her pale flesh. Scars, that would forever stand a constant reminder, of what she had lived through. Not to mention, the further internal damage, hiding just beneath the surface

She thought about running away before .. more than once throughout her life. That she would change her name, how she looked and moved away through all of this. She dreamed of a land where she would be safe and happy, that she would be free. It was in the morning, however when she blinked her eyes open, that she realized that she was exactly like that terrified little mouse trapped in that large glass snake tank. Running far away did have promise to it and the illusion of getting out of the dangers around here were there, but she knew she would only get so far before she was found once again by her 'loving' father and brother.

She had not even a shadow of doubt in her mind, that the both of them would drag her back to this godforsaken shack whilst she kicked and screamed for help. She almost outwardly cringed, when she pictured their deranged features twisted in disgust and rage. As if she wasn't human at all, but more of an irritating bug that deserved to be squashed by a shoe. In the darkness behind her eyelids she couldn't shake the image of their dark eyes twisting in madness, a look that never failed to make she shiver in fear and the small hairs at the back of her neck stand up on end. Especially if it was paired up with the wide, unforgiving smile that her brother offered her, never holding it back no matter how many rotting teeth previously fell out of his mouth.

Her fingers slowly unraveled themselves from the wool fabric that they clung to as the pain began to ebb away, before starting to rise up her body. Her left hand laid itself on top of her naval in a fruitless attempt to settle her stomach while her right hand traveled further up to play with her lank, black hair that she quite possibly inherited from her mother. It was all a move to try and sooth her nerves though she couldn't stop the sigh of dismay from escaping her lips when she felt her stomach getting worse by the second, twisting and turning with unease. She didn't know for sure what it was but she was almost positive that something was different in the air, some sort of change in the wind that she could sense.

She hoped the change was a good one and yet it was still.. strange. Years of being forcibly sheltered from the world under the 'watchful eyes' of her father and her brother had most definitely left her naïve on various different subjects, it irritated her very much though deep down she knew that she was not the one to blame for it being so. Normally she would try her very best not to let it bother her but it was a completely different matter in general when it came to the things that concerned her, such as her body. There was a reason that she kept herself much cleaner than what her tormentors presented themselves as.

At first, she wrote off the unease as being alone in the shack while her 'family' was imprisoned. Flashbacks assaulted her every time she entered a room, images and pain for one reason or another such as hair pulling, beatings or the pain of starvation. The abuse that went on year after year with close to no one knowing she even existed, let alone offer the much needed help to get away. However, all the excuses stopped when she suddenly started to get sick one morning.. Yes, this morning was going to be the day that she went to 'St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries'. Hopefully there she could find out what exactly is making her so sick.

It wasn't the first time she had been there as a 'Jane Doe' and she was certain this trip wouldn't be her last. After all, with all that has happened in her life, she had become very accustomed to the saying " _If it isn't one thing - it's another_."

...

The wide stone walkway of Diagon Alley shined with what appeared to be smooth in texture as the sun glinted upon the light brown and bright golden colors that each individual stone possessed. The English wizarding community pushed and shoved past each other excitedly to go from shop to shop, each going about their day.

Kids of all ages looked around at all the excitement with stars in their eyes, some laughed with glee over newly desired products that were just put upon the shelves this morning, while others were joking around with their friends. More than one set of parents were torn between bargaining about prices, and yelling to their children to stay close and not wonder about.

Nobody seemed to notice however the woman that sat up high on the grand white marble steps that led up to the huge white building known as Gringotts. In fact, she herself didn't even recall how she got there as she walked in a daze from St. Mungo's hospital. She hugged her knees close to her body, the move on autopilot, from where she effortlessly balanced her body sideways in a spot far to the right to stay out of the way of the numerous people that passed by.

' _How am I going to tell him.._?' She silently questioned herself as she searched for a way to ease her boyfriend into the realization that she was pregnant. Her facial features scrunched up in fear and sadness as the last word replayed continuously in her mind. She truly hadn't meant for this to happen, all she had ever wanted was to find love, support and comfort within the darkness that shadowed her life like realizing that dark, gloomy clouds dominated the sky when all you wanted to do was bask in the sunshine.

The results of her visit to the hospital didn't seem real to her though and she was fully expecting to wake back up in the prison that she was forced all her life to call 'home'.

To be truthful, she was terrified beyond any words could express. She was only eighteen years old for crying out loud and with her damaged magical core, she could quite possibly die right after giving birth to this precious bundle that was currently growing within her stomach.

Yes, she was terrified with the idea of being pregnant and she was more than close to tears at the mere possibility of not being able to watch her child grow up to be a fine man or woman. She was despaired that her baby wouldn't be able to know it's mother.. just like she was denied the right to know hers. However, getting rid of her baby was an option that ever even crossed her mind. She already loved her baby and for what may have been the first time in her life she felt the tingling sensation that came with ' _Happiness_ '.

The life growing inside of her _relied on her_ for protection, and come hell or high water she wasn't going to let anyone take her baby away from her. Even if there was a likely possibility that her child wouldn't know her, she refused to give it up by any means. She thought that even if her child was the last face she saw before her departure from this world, it would still be a sight that made her life meaningful..

" _Miss Merope Gaunt."_ The three words were delivered by a soft, angelic voice as it carried to her with the soft breeze around them. The voice made Merope's eyes flash open in surprise, her head snapped up in a quick move that showed just how startled she was. After all, it should be completely impossible that the wizarding population that resided here in England knew that she even existed, let alone identity her and call out to her by name.

When Merope locked eyes with the young woman that only looked to be about a young or so younger than her, it was in that moment that Merope finally understood the term 'beautiful'. In fact, the woman that walked up a few more steps to stop in front of her looked to have a beauty that was as close to inhuman as Merope thought was possible. Dark blood red curls framed a healthy, sunkissed heart shaped face that held the brightest pair of green eyes which seemed to be filled to the brim with so many emotions that Merope found that she was unable to identity them all. The dominant emotions that were glinting in those unforgettable eyes were sadness, understanding and fierce protectiveness.. though the cause of them however was uncertain to Merope.

She had never been looked at like that before, and she couldn't for the life of her understand why the young woman, a stranger no less, was looking at her like that. Merope was positive that she had never met the redhead before today since up until a few short weeks ago she hadn't even stepped foot outside the shack and yet..

" _How_.. do you know my name?" Merope stuttered little, trying to keep her nerves that frantically bubbled inside of her veins out of her voice but a small tremble was still laced within her words in the end. She tried to correct herself by gulping down the harsh lump that swelled in her throat before trying to release an inhaled breath slowly. Satisfaction tingled in her stomach when she realized that her next question came out stronger than the last. "Who are you?"

The beautiful redhead raised an elegant eyebrow in amusement as those eyes stared down at where Merope still sat. Her full, plump cherry colored lips twitched upwards in a grin.. and was that actually approval in her eyes? How strange. Merope never earned approval from others, no matter how how hard she tried and yet this woman - who didn't even know her simply comes along and..

" _My_ name.." The redhead began to answer the question, which effectively made Merope look up at her with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Normally when she asked questions she was ignored or when it came to her family, beaten.. what was different about this woman, compared to all the other individuals around them? Why was she being so kind to her? That question held an answer that Merope couldn't even begin to process, let alone try to understand, "is Shea Potter." The younger woman introduced herself with a smile and a playful bow that had one foot thrown over the other, pointed off to the side with grace and poise that Merope was sure that the most graceful ballerina would be quite envious at.

Merope could feel her lip twitching upwards, surprisingly, at the dramatic act the young woman in front of her was putting on.. even if she was more than a tad bit was a mischievous glint in those beautiful green eyes as Shea spoke again, "And as such, I oath to you, Merope Gaunt, that I hereby swear upon my life and my magic, that everything I am about to tell you is one-hundred percent fact. I do not mean you, nor your child, harm. I also swear that I will offer you refuge in time of need, until I take my very last breath. So mote it be."

When the young woman whom had introduced herself as Shea Potter finished speaking, something invisible around them seemed to snap into place. Merope blinked rapidly a few times with a startled air around her. For while she was unable to go to Hogwarts due to her damaged magical core, she knew for certain that this stranger who seemed so different from the majority of people in this world, had used magic to oath that she would offer her protection. Thereby swearing that she would speak the absolute truth.. or lose her magic. Her connection to the world, before she withered away. It was a strange concept to Merope since she hadn't had the chance to say ten words to the girl, to be truthful. As such, she didn't know whether to be interested, or weary.

The woman in front of her seemed to have nothing to lose, almost as if she was already a dead woman walking. Whatever she was about to tell her, was likely to be both extremely important and highly unlikely in equal proportions. Which left Merope further confused. After all, what was so important that would make this woman oath upon both her life and magic that it was one hundred percent fact? "I cannot tell you here though, as it is a very sensitive subject. There is, however, a restaurant that has affordable rooms that it just a short walk away from here called 'The Leaky Cauldron'. We can discuss it there, if that's agreeable."

Merope eyed Shea suspiciously for a few short moments after the redhead stopped speaking before nodding once and slowly got up from the step in which she previously sat, before following the other woman closely down the remaining number of marble steps. Shea literally couldn't lie to her about this supposedly very sensitive important information. She had both offered protection, and was the first person that Merope had come across that didn't have the objective to harm her. In the end, interest won over the wariness that resided within her from before.

" _And_.." Shea rolled the syllables of the word right of her tongue teasingly before looking back at Merope with a kind, honest grin curving on her lips. A grin that which did nothing to prevent Merope from feeling the full extensive emotion of shock when she processed the next words that spilled out of those plump lips, stock still even when Shea grabbed her gently by the hand to pull her along so they didn't lose each other in the growing crowd of witches and wizards.

"To answer your first question? I tend to be very thorough when I am on the hunt to figure something out, as such you can understand why I made it a point to recognize my future soul mate's mother? ..Now come, we have much to discuss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da! Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. Any and all comments are welcome and appreciated.


	6. Stronger

Upon waking that morning, Merope felt as though, deep down, she could sense this day would be like no other. A premonition of sorts. But the thought quickly disappeared from her mind, as she knew only a rare few were gifted with such powers. She'd remembered reading about such a thing, in one of those choice few spellbooks she'd found hidden away in the attic. It had stated, in times of great distress, one's magic could open them to that branch of divination. Dream Walking, they'd called it. Which she thought with some humor, as she felt as though she had still yet to wake.

If anyone had tried to tell Merope that the change she had sensed in the air this morning, was her body discovering new life within, she would've had a really hard time believing it. And that she would have scoffed, was putting it lightly. Discovering your child's soulmate would arrive from the future shortly thereafter, would quite possibly earn anyone a well placed slap. She didn't tolerate such nonsense being spoken. Especially concerning her personal affairs. Her years of abuse and solitude from the outside world, left her appreciative of her privacy.

That being said, she found surprises were rarely of a pleasing sort. She could debate this with confidence, after having been given her prolonged run of unfortunate circumstances. And with every step taken down Diagon Alley, her anxiety grew. Compounded by the stares she could feel, as the Alley became more crowded by the second. Merope felt unworthy to stand alongside the fiery beauty, who led their way. Her stomach felt as if it was twisting with both sensations of discomfort and protest. Yet, it was the warm sunkissed hand clutching her own, that succeeded alone in settling Merope's nerves.

While tracing comforting circles with the soft pad of her thumb, Shea quickly guided them to 'The Leaky Cauldron.' The establishment appeared just as shady and rickety on the inside, as it promised from the outside. It looked as though the late morning sunlight had lost the battle to penetrate the thick grime-covered windows. Shades of grey painted the foyer and long tables where a few people sat discreetly. She idly wondered as to its unkempt title, but pressed her cracked lips together in an effort to keep the question from passing them.

Instead she watched with a curious shine to her eyes, as her companion made quick but polite work with the older gentleman behind the bar. The wizard did not even spare a glance to Merope's stark appearance in the center of the room, and so she watched as the redhead carefully opened a black pouch of some kind, having been tied securely at her waist. Offering the man a few silver and bronze coins. Having never left the muggle village of Little Hangleton in her life, she thought their wizarding money quite resembled the muggle pence and shillings, she'd become accustomed to using when running errands for her father or brother.

With one last smile curving on her lips towards the unknown man, Shea twisted her body towards her and it made Merope have a fleeting thought that maybe - despite having been talking with the man - Shea may have been watching her out of her peripheral vision. As the familiar hand grasped onto her own, Merope was forced to take notice of how straight the younger woman's posture was as she led the both of them up the old, creaking stairs to the available rooms up above the bar and long tables. Shea's body stood tall over her surroundings, tense, and full of confidence that spoke of true power. Merope couldn't think of a single moment where Shea was not consciously aware of her surroundings. It was almost as if the redhead was expecting someone to step out of a nearby shadow, wand raised threateningly towards them.

Her curiosity ate at her piece by piece. What had happened in the future to make a young woman, her own age, come to expect such horrors at every turn? Merope herself possessed great understanding with the instinct that drove you in fright, to flee or to fight. She'd always chosen the lesser of two evils, knowing that were she to attempt the latter, father may decide to put an end to more than her folly.

She knew that cowardice was the only reason they'd allowed her to continue to breathe in their air. Through their mistreatment, her fright made her weaker to them. Her whole life, she'd let them subjugate her every waking moment. Up until less than an hour ago, she'd thought herself nothing but the last dying breath, leaving the great Salazar Slytherin's line to wither away into the ether. But just as all hope had all but extinguished, her reason became apparent. A child. Her child. He would bear so much more than a great name. He would bear his mother's hope and love, for until he existed she'd had none.

This noble beauty whom stood so proud and powerful before her, would one day stand beside her son in complete unity. A union so strong, that it penetrated their mere essence. A soul bond intertwined a witch's and wizard's spirits into an amalgamation, of the purest sort.

Merope could sense, however, that her son's bonded carried the weight of more than just trauma over her shoulders. Shea bore her battles in much the same way those few surviving muggle veterans in her village did, buried deep within her eyes. Somewhere inside her mind, she would never leave the battlefield. It was a part of her, just as Merope's scars were a part of her.

Merope feared what horrors had come to pass, for such a young woman to make such a tear into the fabric of time itself. An act Merope knew to be a damning one. One did not simply manipulate time for their liking, it just wasn't done. Such a perversion would surely require too great a cost. Frankly, until a few minutes before, she wasn't entirely sure such a feat could be accomplished at all. Reading about such a thing and realizing its existence as truth, were two separate entities.

She was sure many had felt the lure of manipulating time to their advantage. Jumping back or forth, to make themselves something beyond what they were on that day. Something stronger. Someone great. A true survivor. Merope couldn't help but wonder if Shea had any hidden motives, lurking just below the surface. For what soul would do such deeds, for only pure purposes

It did not escape her notice, that when Shea swore upon that magical oath to not lie nor speak untruths to her, Shea did not in any terms swear to tell all. Meaning, she would have free reign on what ever she wished to reveal. As long as what ever she spoke was the utter truth, she could slip through her own carefully crafted loophole. Merope wasn't sure if she preferred that or not. If she should shake her head in amusement, or in weariness that her son's soulmate was cunning enough to locate a weakness in the oath which bound her life and her magic. Both of which were very much on the line, should she so much as speak one little white lie regarding their future conversations.

No matter what details were freely given, they would be the absolute truth. It would mean that one person in this world, would not speak lies to her. Her family liked to wield them, just to toy with her mind and emotions. For the first time in her life, she had found safety in another. Granted, every move that Shea made, would be carefully calculated to secure her soulmate's future. Merope would be willing to risk everything to secure such a future, and though it was strange for Merope to trust in someone, she couldn't find any fault in doing so now.

Shea halted in front of a door that had the worn, silver metal numbers of 210 glinting against the darkened wood. She turned to look at Merope with an emotion that the older girl, no matter how hard she tried, couldn't find the name for. It seemed that her piercing green eyes were searching for something within Merope, to let her know that her soulmate's mother could handle what ever she was about to tell her. Contemplating in one moment, what she should say to summarize just what trials she had lived through. Already seeming to hypothesize different scenarios on how Merope would react to certain elements.

Nevertheless, Merope nodded her head in what she hoped was an affirmative gesture, to let Shea know that she was ready for whatever was going to happen next. Even if she herself felt self doubt weigh heavy, like an anchor in the pit of her stomach. Internally deciding not to give voice her thoughts or feelings. For her omission was nothing compared to that knife twisting fear, of not being seen as 'strong' in the eyes of her unborn son's mate. Merope knew that she was not built to lead or achieve true greatness herself.. but her heart rested of being more. Being able to offer love, trust, support, and guidance to her son and his bonded, would more than fulfill her desires. _And maybe_ , she mentally pondered as she watched Shea turn the heavy bronze skeleton key in the lock, _just maybe, she had true reason to hope for a better tomorrow._

_..._

Once they were in the rented room, Shea leaned against the desk, while Merope had sat down at the foot of the bed. Few words were exchanged while Shea had spoken her piece. Merope soon understood the magnitude of information that weighed her new companion down. Through the story, some details were intentionally left vague, such as peoples' names, dates, and such. Merope understood that some wounds burned to deep to speak of them for long. Hearing only the briefest of explanation of where she was raised for the first 11 years of her life. There were even a few moments where she had to stop and rethink her wording, to omit a beloved friend or loathed enemy.

Much of the tale seemed impossible, yet from one look into Shea's tortured eyes, she knew it to be truth. She had come to understand that, through the dialogue, Shea could easily do the things that many people deemed unfeasible. It was shocking to hear certain details of the future that the flame-haired beauty would do just about anything to change. It gave her unique perspective on who Shea Potter was as a person. The feral glint in those bright green eyes, told Merope that Shea would succeed in righting those future wrongs, even if she had to die trying.

By any means necessary, was left unsaid, but understood between them. There was not one price thought too high, in regards to her son in both of their eyes. An accord was struck between the two women, that day, in the bowels of The Leaky Cauldron. Should one day, such a future be allowed to pass through their foreknowledge of such threats, they would both have failed not only him, but themselves.

Merope's hands alternated between furiously clutching the dark cotton blanket covering the bed, and desperately cradling the life that grew within her womb. Dread twisted through her, clogging her throat, no matter how much she tried to keep her breathing regular, it seemed to be gone as quickly as it came.

The shock at hearing of her own passing, was little compared to the horror at hearing of her son's beginnings in the muggle orphanage. Bullied, mentally tortured, and castigated for being different? Where he survived only by learning to wield his accidental wandless magic, at such a tender age.. To hurt others just to protect himself? Completely unaware of his magical lineage and noble roots buried deep in his ancestry..

Shea let is be known that others' were made aware of his magical usage but let it go unchecked, not caring to question why such a young boy would need to use so heavily, so early on. To learn that it was probably in his flight from the other children, when he learned of his ability to speak to snakes. Much like her own experience, wherein hiding in the gardens from her abusive father, she met her first slithering friend. A gift her family had all but forgotten, or deemed worthless through their fall from power.

This was certainly not what she wanted for her child. Her little one would never feel the burn of shame or self-hatred she felt all her life. She understood clearly that people as a whole, magical and non magical alike, feared the things that they did not understand. But she had always treated non magical people how she would want them to treat her. It was as simple as that, after all who was she to point a finger at someone else and judge them?

That aside though, her blood felt like it was starting to boil within her veins as Merope heard her future daughter-in-law painfully summarize what her son had gone through in the future that Shea had come from. Now, she knew why she seemed so insistent on changing the future.

To not only be bullied for his accidental wandless magic as a child but his rare, prestigious ability of Parseltongue. Passed down through the generations from Salazar Slytherin, himself! One of the four powerful founding members that made Hogwarts and the wizarding community what it was today.

If she thought she knew what hate was, true unadulterated hate was from her father's rants, she was shocked to learn of her own fiendish wrath burning her from within to avenge her child. But most of all, one man bore her scorn above the others. A madman walking in plain sight, bearing the grandfatherly facade to perfection. The true serpent hiding in the grass. Filled with hatred and prejudice against those whose magic leant towards Dark or Grey elements, in nature.

No child should have to go through any of this. No child should have to feel like they are ashamed of their abilities their ancestors passed down to them. Gifts that made them unique. She was currently still in the process of unraveling through the aftermath of the years of abuse. It pained her beyond words that all of this happened, would happen, to her baby boy if Shea hadn't traveled back in time as an attempt to fix it.

There was one thing that Merope didn&t understand though. She didn't understand how Shea planned to bypass the after effects, that went hand and hand with drinking unicorn blood. While Shea promised to already have the potion that would heal both of their magical cores to full strength, what good would it do when Shea had willingly cursed herself to live a half life? Could such a thing be reversed? The answer to these questions that she accidentally thought out loud, was one that Merope wasn't expecting. For when Shea's half smirk widened into a full devilish grin that showed little dimples on each of her cheeks, her bright green eyes positively shining with triumph. Her stately features taking on a wild gleam, as she spoke. Shea softly purred out her next words from those soft looking rose petal lips, making them effortlessly cut through the all consuming silence that the room now held."Tell me, Merope Gaunt, what do you know of alchemy and philosophy? Particularly speaking, of course, one created by famed alchemist, Nicholas Flamel. The Sorcerer's Stone holds the key to granting its' possessor endless knowledge of alchemy, but most importantly is the wellspring for creating The Elixir of Life."

Merope couldn't help but shake her head softly, gradually becoming more amused than frightened over the level of brilliance Shea seemed to wield effortlessly. Any normal, sane person would be the complete opposite direction, the moment the'd discovered her purpose there. Not even allowing for any sort of explanation. Merope found that she couldn't help herself though. There was just something about Shea that put her at ease, as well as excited her to see how such a brilliant, mischievous mind worked. Something about the young woman with the blood-colored mane emitted maturity, and both a dramatic and deadly demeanor in how she spoke and carried herself. Shea possessed unworldly beauty, while never allowing it to overshadow her passionate heart and true mischief that lived in those eyes. It seemed that there was more to Shea, than anyone would have been able to guess. Merope was just glad to stand shoulder to shoulder beside such a witch.

...

She cast her eyes downwards towards the open book, that lay in front of her on top of the old, wobbly dark wooden table. A table that may have once been made out of a fine carved white oak wood, passed along through generations, before her father succeeded in burning a portion of it in anger at her once for not having dinner on the table when he stumbled in from the local bar after 'work'. It was the primary cause of all the burns that riddled her body. Magical burns that could only be treated with proper wizarding medicines, soon after the incidents. What little her family had yet to gamble away, she was assured they would not spend to her aide. And over the years, the once beautiful table had been slammed, kicked, thrown about, charred black, and accumulated dust and dirt that fell from the broken roof. Merope found it hard to keep herself from snatching up the potion vials from it's grime. More importantly, the extremely valuable and rare potions tome, written by only the most prestigious potion masters within 'The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black'. She was embarrassed to have such priceless objects in the shack with all it's filthy conditions and she wondered how Shea had gotten her hands on it, as she had introduced herself as 'Potter.' Merope found herself becoming overwhelmed to be graced with such an artifact within her grasp, to feel it's beautifully crisp pages between the pads of her fingertips.

Merope, having never been sent to a learning institution to hone her magic due to her damaged magical core, was taught basic necessities like reading and cooking by a squib her father had contracted. She was expected to cook and maintain the 'house' to the best of her abilities, knowing that whatever her best was, it would still be found wanting. Still though Merope couldn't help but to praise any literature she was able to secret away and read. Analyzing the book and potion vials with a greedy desire to understand their magics, and more than a little envy. She could never hope to be anywhere as good as Shea or those whom had contributed to this book. Perhaps, she could ask Shea to teach her about magic and the magical world? It couldn't hurt to ask... right?

Merope soon realized Shea's splendor stretched into potion-making, as well as nearly any other subject Merope could think to ask, ut for these vials all she needed to do was add one last ingredient. Using a dagger, she added a bit of each one's blood to the appropriate vial, to finish off the potion. With it keyed solely to themselves, when they drank this potion it would 'attack' their damaged magical cores. They would require a place to lay down, as Merope could only imagine how painful it would be to reconstruct a magical jumped when the door opened abruptly, her hands holding her stomach protectively.

A sigh of relief fell from her lips, when she saw a head of dark red hair. Shea smiled at her in apology before stepping forward to look at her from across the table. To Merope's surprise, she seemed untouched by the grime that grew upon every surface in the shack. Shea looked at her assuredly, and spoke in soft tones, "We will find another place to call 'home'. Somewhere safe to raise him properly, and where you don't need to be afraid. Those days of feeling terror are over now that I am here. I promise. I take it you looked over the items I left, before I went looking for the archives?"

Merope nodded silently, half in approval at how well Shea did on the potion. The other half in shock. She.. she would leave this prison? For good..? Make no mistake, it was what she had always dreamed of, but never had she let herself begin to hope that.. _hope_.

Shea lips curved into a half smile, before pulling out her wand that was made of some type of dark brown wood. Mahogany, if Merope would have guessed. Slowly reaching to grab an unlit candle, that her father had always kept just in case if the lights went out.. Before Merope's eyes she transfigured the pale yellow candle into a silver dagger, her dark eyes widened at the beauty of it's detail, that Shea had done with seemingly no effort.

A snake with emerald green gems for eyes, shone brightly with the sunlight coming through the window a few feet away from them and seemed to be very much alive, eagerly soaking up the attention they were giving it with pride. The head was the handle, curved to the right for someone to easily grab onto, it's scales beautifully detailed from head to the tip of the dagger where it served as the tail..

 _Beautiful... It was simply a work of art_.. Merope thought as she stared wide eyed at it. Before looking up slowly to see Shea looking at her, with teasingly raised eyebrow and a smirk. Her hand that wasn't holding the head of the silver snake, fingered the tip of the dagger carefully, almost lovingly.

"...Shall we get started then?"

**...**


	7. Brave New World

 

Deep within the the thick forest cloaking the Gaunt shack from view, stood two shadowy figures. With the moon high overhead, their oddly proportioned shadows cut morbidly across the ground. Striding in a heavy and forced manner, they plowed through the marshland; mud painting their bodies as black as pitch in the night. Bodies covered more by wet earth, than the rags hanging off their forms by mere stitches. All manner of life ceased within the woods, as the intruding figures continued without pause toward their destination.

The spotlight from above illuminated their facial features for no more than a second, before the two men swiftly jerked their bodies away from the light. Finding residence in the darkness once more. It was almost as if the two had expected the moon's silvery rays to burn their pale flesh. Firstly setting their skin alight with a fiendish flame; eating through both flesh and bone needlessly. Even though such would be completely irrational, their manic minds could not help but to see such horrors behind very surface.

They passed beneath the beams of moonlight, just enough for their features to illuminate with ghoulish splendor. Even if such was contradictory to the darkness behind their eyes, and within their souls. The eldest of the pair happened to be much shorter than his comrade, even with the broad shoulders that he possessed. Long deadened arms dangled limp at his sides, as if he didn't have the slightest idea what to do with them. His back hunched over, weighed down from years of unending torture. The color of cinnamon made up his orbs, that seemed impossibly wide in nature. Darkened glints of insanity gleamed upon his pale wrinkled features, that was framed by disorderly clumps of black hair.

The man who obediently followed mere steps behind, held similar features of that of his father's. His wretched form was a lot less oddly proportioned, though lanky and morbidly skeletal. His thick dark hair was matted with dirt and grease, since he never bothered with things such as hygiene. His small dark colored eyes stared off in different directions to make his overall appearance look frighteningly estranged.

Ravens took flight overhead; disturbed by the interlopers' approach. Both of their dirty faces twisted with irritant expressions. The pair stopped to glare darkly as the birds, whom had previously laid peacefully within the trees. Looking up into the cloudless night sky, they could make out grey wisps winding over the treetops. The faint smell of smoke wafted past, as the wind picked up. It wasn't until the newly released Gaunts turned their twitching gaze toward where the flock of frightened birds had come from, did they finally take note of the thick cloud of smoke coming from up ahead.

"Girl!" Marvolo, the father figure of the pair, growled the one word as loudly as he could possibly manage in both distaste and fury. This was not what he expected to find as soon as he was released from Azkaban's gates. His rotten teeth clenched, and his fists tightened. Promising pain upon the subject of his greatest disappointment.

The high pitched squawks that the birds cut through the air with ease. Giving Marvolo have half a thought to shoot a well placed killing curse at the lot of them, just to be able to achieve a second's peace. He would have undoubtedly done so had the muggle loving, mudblood infested Ministry hadn't put magical sensors on each former prisoner's magic before they were let out of Azkaban. It would no doubt be the girl's saving grace for now, but certainly not for long.

Oh how he longed for next week to come when the sensor was lifted. When the ministry officials would return him his wand, his power. He'd once more hold his most beloved weapon in his grasp.

Beside him, Morfin couldn't help but snicker with glee at the mere idea of witnessing his dear sister get into trouble once again. His opinion of the girl stood that such a disgusting waste of magical blood, should be wiped from their family. "Maybe she was trying to cook again and burnt it.." Morfin suggested with a slight hum that was now present within his voice, thinking with malicious glee toward how they'd punish the disgrace. His voice was rough from not being used in so long. His father shot back a wordless growl in response.

Morfin quickly trailed behind his father through the dense forest, as he'd picked up the pace. Both of them uncaring in the slightest that they were nothing but the dirty scraps of light gray and off white striped inmate attire. A dangerous wide smirk curved upon Morfin's dry, cracked lips as he too followed the direction of the smoke.

If that girl had any sense at all within her brain, she would allow herself to perish in the fire that she somehow started. For there was not a single doubt in Morfin's mind that if the fire didn't kill her, their father's rage surely would when he finally got his hands around her filthy little neck.

Oh, what fun this would be to watch.

However - completely unknown to the estranged duo - as the thin, charred embers of the fire were carried of in a soft breeze towards the heavens before they slowly descended by to earth in a downward spiral, it was upon a nearby hillside that overlooked the thick forest from afar where two young women stood side by side, their gaze fixed upon the dark cloud of smoke.

They had planned night and day; working to set the stage for what Merope hoped would be her day of reckoning.

The dark haired woman stared at the pyre with rapture. Unable to turn her gaze from it's sheer beauty. Even as the smooth dark wood that encased a dragon heartstring, seemed to weigh heavily within her hands. A sense of release pulsed within her veins and warmed her newly restored magical core, and even though Merope knew the job was far from over with, she felt the almost overwhelming sense of satisfaction. Hours upon hours devoted to building and stabilizing her core, finally coming into fruition. Casting with every ounce of vengeance in her body. As it took flight from her wand, it breathed life into her veins.

Her mentor stood tall at her side; the woman with hair the color of the fiendfyre flames, currently eating away at the remnants of her childhood home. Shea taught with such unwavering faith and encouragement. Explaining how wand movements and manner of speech could affect a spell's success. Teaching, above all else that true power is drawn from meaning. Breathing your confidence; drawing deeply from your well of emotions inside, could allow a weaker spell to surpass even the most advanced.

Merope could hear Shea's words in her mind, in the seconds leading up to her fiery display. "When you cast, you must firstly see it." Merope planted her feet, breathing in deep conviction. "Then just when you are about to release, dig deep inside your heart and soul. Find what it is you're fighting for." The young Gaunt heir, laid a palm overtop her belly. Feeling that little pulse of life within her. Her son. Herself. She fought for both of them, in this moment. "Finally, clasp your wand firmly. For in this moment, it is an extension of you. Let its' movements flow into you. Then just as you speak the incantation, release. Feel the magic flow through your veins." And feel it, she did.

* * *

The act of performing magic for the first time, was one that Merope found to be almost indescribable. How could she even begin to try to put into words, the satisfaction and wonder she felt. The warmth that reverberated deep within, when her beloved magic began to rise from somewhere within her chest? The creation of such a pleasurable pulse fired from within her veins, lingering at the ends of the fingertips of her right hand. Emitting like a strike of lightning through the wand, clutched within her tight grasp.

Merope felt her lips begin to curve into a smile, an almost strain upon them from not being stretched that way for so long. Almost without meaning to she raised her hand to just over her womb. Feeling that warmth pulse through her, and through the life growing inside her. A tender smile gracing her lips, at the overwhelming pleasure she felt at that moment. For what may have been the first time since she could ever remember, Merope found herself gathering strength, courage, and maybe the most important emotion of all - faith. Faith that tomorrow would turn out to be much better than yesterday, that tomorrow held a second chance for her to do all the things that she wanted but never thought she would get the chance.

Merope couldn't even form the words needed to express just how grateful she was that the redhead currently standing beside her, came from the future to help her. To change things for the better. Repairing the damaged thread that Merope thought herself to be without so much as second guessing her decision to do so. Because of this enchanting redhead that dared to change the past to make a better future for those she held close to her heart, Merope found that she her soul no longer mockingly reflected back at her through the cracked full-length mirror. Weeks passed, during which time they worked tirelessly to grasp all elements of the Fiendfyre Curse. For containment was a challenge in itself.

Shea had first reached within her russack to pull out a few texts, covering magical theory, charms, and curses. Setting them down on the table, Shea asked to borrow her wand, for a moment.

With just a few simple jerks of the wrist and couple wordless spells, she'd conjured a torch to practice with. Transfiguring their simple wooden chairs into well-cushioned high backed leather ones. As well as summoning a meal for them, to replenish once the potion's effects wore off. They both pulled up a chair and began their first lesson. Merope eager to learn, just as Shea was to teach. Feeling remembrance to her lost days leading The DA inside the Room of Requirement, during her Fifth Year. She embraced that same feeling of joy, she had felt when one of the members accomplished something truly special. For Shea believed that Merope had greatness in her, even if she wasn't sure herself.

Shea began with the basics to spell casting, and over the next few weeks concentrated on building Merope's magical endurance. Doing drills and such to test her willpower and stamina. She knew that once their beginner training was through, they needed to discuss a few things regarding their residence. So she'd contacted one of the leading architectural wizards residing in Italy. After her extended stay in The Black House, she'd discovered a contract that was in place between a Vincent Romanesco and The Black Family. A debt was settled between the families.

One that stood on the basis that Romanesco's intricate spell-casting ability, to build and cloak homes for exclusive members of Europe, was undisputable. Milo Romanesco, was a descendant whom had inherited his grandfather's talent. But above all, his clients remained anonymous in his books. No trail would lead back to them or their family. He was the perfect wizard for the job. She had such great plans for their home. Merope would be pleased.

* * *

As Merope began her descent toward the burning house, she was forced to call a prison for years. She breathed deeply; still hearing every insult thrown, every strike she was forced to endure all those years. The Gaunt Shack was a place that she would hardly say, she would miss. A small part, hidden within her after all these years still held the hope that the abuse from the people that she was forced to call family, was simply a dream. A bad nightmare gone horribly wrong that she couldn't seem to wake up from. The people that were supposed to protect her from all else, were her tormentors in both dream and reality. All for no apparent reason other than the mere fact that she simply existed.

Upon meeting Shea Potter, Merope had begun to understand that as much as she craved the idea of family. It was more than just blood and bone. It was the people that stood by you through the darkest times, even if they didn't have to. Merope had never expected much to come out of her life, in fact all she had wanted was to find her place in life and simply be happy. Doing this now, was not only for herself but for her beautiful baby boy within her womb. Her heart, which had been previously pounding within her chest, slowly settled as determination pulsed within her blood.

As she tilted her head up softly at the sound of rustling leaves, off to her right she could scarcely make out the silhouettes of two looming figures; steadily approaching out of the depths of the forest. Both proceeding at an off kilter, stumbling pace from their excessively entropied limbs. Made to find their own way home, after being released. One began to lead the charge; his mangled face became visible in the moonlight. Marvolo Gaunt sneered grotesquely at his daughter, his tongue heavy with rage as his eyes darkened at the young woman who looked at him defiantly.

"Father." She spoke firmly. For once in her life, she sounded sure of herself. Her young one, gave her a reason to survive; but Shea gave her reason to live.

"I have half a mind to end your sorry excuse of a life, girl." Marvolo spat with rage in her direction, he would have thought all the ..teachings he gave the girl throughout the years would have taught her some respect. Much less, to pay attention to what she was doing; so as to prevent her from lighting the house aflame. He knew the punishments he gave her for her mistakes were far from what one would consider as light, yet the draft girl still made them. Though never to this level. He had always been there to put a stop to it and her before they were all out of a home.

"You could certainly try to do so, Father." Merope retaliated abruptly before he could go further, and maybe it was all the time she had spent over the last few weeks with Shea; but her voice was far from the meek little mouse that she felt herself become within the dominating presence that her brother and father possessed. She felt stronger overall, with determination pulsating through her veins and her mind growing wiser with each word that Shea spoke to her when the redhead held lessons. A part of her could only pause in shocked silence as the rest of her thought process fell from her lips with ease, "But I dare to say, you seem to have none to spare."

"You dare?" Marvolo gritted his rotten teeth together with rage as he mocked her, his left foot rustling the leaves beneath him as he made it step forward threatening. He hereby ignored Morfin, who seemed torn between amused at their confrontation and struck stupid by trying to figure out what she meant. "How dare you talk to me like that? Clearly you forgot your place, during my time away from here. I will take great pleasure in correcting your views that contradict that and diminishing that newfound bravery." His eyes, which held the usual glint of madness, sparkled with mirth of just what ideas he had for her... and as usual, it made Merope's stomach clench with disgust.

As Marvolo's poor half addled brain focused so completely on Merope, Shea silently approached from behind. Having casted a silencing charm beforehand, she watchfully drew nearer; wand at the ready. Merope's sad excuse of a father, continued his long winded rant. Rising and falling in pitch, unawares. Everything was going accordingly to plan. Then, just as Shea moved to cast, Morfin reached toward his father's arm, finally realizing something was off about Merope.

Freezing, where she stood; right when Marvolo turned to shake off his son's hand. Her bloodstream filled with panic; she hadn't been able grab hold of him. Just as she was sure everything was for naught, that the man would turn and spot her right there in the open. Merope hastily stepped out from the shadows.

"Do you know what the difference is between you and I, Father?" Her sudden arrival caused him to jerk backwards. There, beside her mirror image, proudly stood another Merope. "I will restore honor to my family name. Not let it wither in disrepair, as you have."

Hissing in hatred for the sound of her voice, Marvolo spat at her. "You sound just like that waste of a woman, who birthed you. You'll always be a sniveling ungrateful child, as long as you live."

The first then spoke up, picking up where her other self left off. "You and your lecherous schemes, disgust me. I want nothing more to do with you both." Looking at both of the figures in utter abhorrence, he continued to back away as the second doppelganger grew closer.

Finally, whipping his eyeline toward his son; where he discovered, to his fear, another scion of his daughter. All three now formed a circle that began to tighten around him, like a noose. Causing his ire to rise; he realized for the first time in his life, he was frightened of the wretch they called his child.

The first held fast to her wand, keeping it aimed on his stumbling form. The second made a show of twirling her wand carelessly. And the third, leered over at his pathetic form while grasping her fingers tightly around the handle of her wand. His blood boiled with hatred. Their pathetic excuse of a resistance would crumble beneath his wrath.

Sensing weakness in the second figure's form, he lunged toward her wand. Knocking her back, as he grasped it and fired the strongest cruciatus he had in him onto the closest figure.

Her screams echoed off the trees around them. Tasting victory at long last, like the sweetest of nectar. As he kept up the curse, the other two backed away. Seconds ticked away, as Marvolo cackled in laughter. Merope's voice had begun to crack and die away, incapacitated beyond reprimand.

Then, for just a moment… her voice returned. Only far deeper in pitch, than before. It's sudden shift caused Marvolo to pause, jilting his curse to a standstill. As he began to eye her crumpled body, cracks began to form in the image. Her body, became his. In place of Merope, now lay a raggedy man's. A deathly quiet rang out, as Marvolo tried to shake this new scene from his mind. Squinting and twisting his maul of a face into one of confusion, he finally stepped closer. Grasping the man's shoulder, he flipped the barely living man over onto his back.

Gazing down unto the unseeing eyes of his only son, Morfin.

* * *

_Minutes before…_

As Merope began her descent toward the burning house, she was forced to call a prison for years. She breathed deeply; still hearing every insult thrown, every strike that fell upon her skin. Her childhood, a bad nightmare gone horribly wrong that she couldn't seem to wake up from. The people that were supposed to protect her from all else, were her tormentors in both dream and reality. For no other reason than the fact that she simply existed. Tonight brought more than retribution. She fought to protect her new family, now.

Her little one and Shea were her family; they were her everything. Their lives meant more to her than anything she'd ever experienced before; bound together out of love for her child. But there was something else, that bonded them both. Something that swam deep in those emerald pools, that shook Merope in her core. Each a victim at the hands of their 'protectors.' Violently forced into submission by their demented teachings.. but no more.

Together they arose from the ashes. No longer would either allow themselves or those closest to them, to suffer at the hands of another. They were survivors. Conquerors. They would take back their family's reign over the Wizarding World.

As Merope's studies developed, they both found it prudent to acquire a wand for Merope. One that could be easily destroyed. Leaving no ties to her father and brother's accident, should any doubt be raised. Lifting it off a drunkard down Knockturn Alley, had been childsplay. The spindly old wand weighed next to nothing, resting in Merope's grasp now. Stepping carefully down the steep incline; heart racing in a flurry, thinking of the upcoming ploy.

She tilted her head up softly at the sound of rustling leaves, she could scarcely make out the silhouettes of two looming figures approaching. Steadily, out of the depths of the forest both figures drew near. Finally sensing her cue, she raised her wand threateningly.

"Imitatio!" Softly, she cast the Dark Shadow Charm. Observing the ghostly form stepping out from her body. Features solidifying, until there was no difference between the two. Nodding back at herself in composure. With her conscious split, it allowed her control over both bodies. Slowly, her spectre self approached her relatives and made herself known.

Unable to turn her eyes from the scene in front of her. Admiring the sight of her proudly standing up to her abuser; mocking him, without a care. Merope maneuvered her shadow self, to keep her father's back toward Shea's approach. But alas, just as Shea moved to latch onto Marvolo's mind, her brother reached for his arm.

Panicking at the thought of Shea's predicament, she knew their hoax was nearly to an end. Like in chess, they needed to add another piece on the board. Confusing their opponent to their true intentions. She stepped from behind the shrubbery, fixating on the man they planned to play for a fool.

Capturing the look of paranoia and confusion entering his dark eyes, brought a smile to her lips. Finally able to divulge to him, the dishonor he brought their family, took a weight from her chest. Staring one last time at the waste of a man, she delivered one final insult, just as Shea's legilimency took hold.

Turning to garner Morfin's support he discovered, much to Merope's delight, that in his place now stood another mirror image of her. Her brother would stay his ground, never questioning their father. Even as Marvolo gazed at his son in horror, Morfin only tried to appease to him. Not understanding the situation playing out before his eyes.

Sensing Marvolo's fright at being outnumbered, she began closing in on him. Sending her spectre self pacing further away. The objective here, was to give him the opportunity to make a grab for her wand, as her other self remained ghost-like in feel. He'd make the move; she knew he couldn't stand the thought of feeling out of control. Years observing his actions, gave her great insight into the workings of his ill mind.

Once he grabbed for her wand, she and her shadow moved out of his vicinity. Leaving him to turn to the only attacker, who remained at hand. Sensing the fire enter his father's eyes, Morfin stepped closer to pacify him. Unaware at that moment, all the man saw was his weak, disappointment of a daughter raising her wand to finally defend herself...

* * *

A few minutes later…

There lay Morfin; barely breathing and unconscious from the trauma. Stumbling backwards, Marvolo searched his surroundings for anyone else. Not comprehending how just moments before he had seen his bastard of a child; now nowhere in sight. He knew what he'd seen was real, not another hallucination like he'd had in Azkaban. He was certain!

Breathing in the thick smoke from his burning home, he shook in fright. Dropping the wand in shock. Having been unable to determine what had just occurred, he began to slam his fists into his skull. Mumbling to himself madly.

In fact, that was the scene aurors saw, just a few moments thereafter. Circling the wizard in question, with stoic expressions upon their faces. Scarcely sure what to make of the unhinged old man. Rocking himself in the dirt; grumbling unintelligibly all the while. Quickly stunning and apprehending the suspect, they cast a few spells to see if anyone else was within the vicinity.

Sensing none, one performed a few quick diagnosis spells at the unmoving body. Grunting something lowly at his partners, before disappearing with the wizard to St. Mungo's. The taller of the two tossed a flippant extinguishing charm on the remaining flames. Before both disapparated with the stunned man.

* * *

_A few minutes earlier..._

By the time the Cruciatus Curse had left his lips, Shea and herself had removed their presence entirely. Retreating through the trees and up the knoll behind the shack. Helping each other climb to the hilltop, where they could easily see over the still smoldering house. Red light bathed the overgrown gardens below. Minutes must have passed, before the noticeable cracks of apparition were heard.

Finally locking eyes, as the two overheard the auror's speaking below. Linking their hands in a united front, the two watched as the five figures disappeared from sight. Breathing the remnants of smoke into their lungs, as though it was the sweetest of summer breezes. Shea could taste the opportunities opening up for their futures. Merope could finally take in a deep breath, without feeling as though her ribs constricted her airways. Feeling the chains of her past fall to the ground, they turned to look over at the brightening sky. Not realizing they had been standing over the bones of her childhood home for hours. Gazing at the rising sun over the horizon, she had never beheld such a beautiful sight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to give your opinion. As always


	8. Loose Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this my dear readers is Chapter 8: Loose Ends, and I desperately urge you to get comfortable before you start reading. AvalonTheLadyKiller and I made this extra long, more than five thousand words - almost 6 thousand, to make up for the lost time. Please cue the screaming fans and the throwing of roses onto the stage as we both take humbled bows. Thank you for your support, reviews, favorites, and follows. It means alot to us.

Ravens took flight from their hiding places, high up in the trees. Dancing through the sky in a series of playful dives, with only soft squawks emitting from their beaks; sounds that mixed with the tree leaves brushing together, as they swayed with the wind. Only a whisper of the ravens' wings could be heard; blanketed by the thicket, that cocooned Shea and herself. Crickets hid in the undergrowth around the niche, chirping their soothing melody.

Hidden in a nook, cloaked by wild abandon; Merope woke from her slumber. Shifting slightly, she was finally settled into a more comfortable position. A sigh of content fell from her lips as she listened to the forest's song start up again, after the night's disturbance. The smell of charred wood lingered heavily on the cool morning air, despite the fact that the fire had been put out hours before. Instead of assaulting her senses in the way she would have previously predicted, Merope found that she quite liked the smell.

Mixed with the earthy tones around her, it almost felt like she'd cleansed the haunted stain from the countryside. Nature would reclaim the purged earth once more. It gave her satisfaction to be able to still taste her liberation. Her dreams, finally realized.

Merope felt a subtle curve slip onto her lips; idly questioning if the stars' alignment had anything to do with the extraordinary series of events, that led Shea to her. What wrinkle in the fabric of time, could have led them both to converge here in this one place in time. Paths overlapping in her time of need. Seconds seemed to drag on into hours, and yet all she seemed to be able to dwell on was the hollow pit within her stomach; now replaced with the comforting sense of freedom.

 _Freedom_ , she echoed softly in her mind; exhilaration pulsing through her veins. She had finally cut the ropes that bound her to their deadweight. Floating up, where she broke the surface; gasping for air and claiming her deliverance. Merope was no longer held captive by the misconceptions they held over her head tauntingly, nor did she feel like she was trapped in her own skin. Trapped between who everyone seemed to want her to be and who she actually was.

The once all consuming fear that had resided deep within her stomach, forming a tight grip on her heart, unclenched a little more every day. Shea had breezed into her life less than a month ago, and since then Merope's askewed world had finally begun to right itself. With her companion at her side, magical feats became routine tasks; accomplished with little strain.

The knots that had previously twisted within her stomach, from the anxiety of their plan going awry; slowly ebbed away after witnessing the aurors' apparition from sight. As the night made way for morning, the two had settled down for a little shut eye. Both breathing easy, as the first element of their plan fell into place.

Merope suddenly felt compelled to take a sideways glance, to where the otherworldly redhead laid beside her. Smiling softly at the sight of Shea's bright green eyes, shining skyward with unrestrained magic; reflecting the morning light that shone above them from the heavens. The young witch held the gift of intellect, far before her time. Ever since she had met Shea, her veins pulsed with the undeniable power that the redhead's aura held. Her ability to love grew to such lengths, enveloping those deemed worthy. Swathing them in new found compassion and warmth.

Merope didn't know this, but Shea often caught herself looking to her soulmate's mother; feeling as though Lily, herself was staring back at her. Though they both were raised without a mother-figure, Merope took to it like a fish to water. Exuding a serene calm that soothed the body, mind, and soul.

Shea though, she had a warrior's air about her, Merope thought. As if every breath she took was in defiance. As if she could turn her stormy eyes upon any witch or wizard alike, and prove their worth to be found wanting. A powerful force in her own right that refused to bend to anyone else's will but her own. Merope had never felt more safe than when she stood shoulder to shoulder with the witch.

Her mind held such an advanced perception of her surroundings. As though she was simply trapped in the body of someone a quarter of her true age. Anyone who ever entertained the mere thought that her friend would bow to anyone, should be considered to be nothing more than a complete imbecile. Merope herself, couldn't even work up a sliver of pity toward the damage her friend's explosive reaction would precipitate. She wondered if her son had the same tenacity; the same resilience to others.

Both versions of her son, would carry much the same core character traits, she figured. Though they'd be shaped to reflect the difference in upbringing. Her mind continuously worried over whose standards, she would raise him to. Her familial obligation leaned toward the pureblood's ironclad sense of righteousness, which she had no interest in carrying on another generation. She wanted to instil integrity back into their family name. Yes, he would be a Gaunt and a Slytherin; but above all he would be his own man.

That meant he would bear a name, no mere orphan would carry. A name to strike inspiration into the spirits of those younger; devotion into the hearts of those lesser; and admiration into the minds of those equal. Shea and she had talked long into the night, of who her son became without guidance. She refused to carry on through her pregnancy blind, when so much was at stake. Backed into a corner, where he had to fight his way to the top. Her child became an abuser in the end; unleashing fury unto others, as others did him. She wanted his name to cling in reverence off every tongue in the Magical World. When he was finally ready to claim his rightful place in their world, he would be legendary.

Her fiery-haired companion spoke often, of his natural flair for nearly every aspect of magical theorem. A true savant. Merope's breath hitched, as she felt her heart give a firm clench in pride. Shea also mentioned his high IQ to be one of the reasons he matured beyond that of a child. Much as Shea, herself, Merope thought. Natural born intelligence and abusive environmental factors, lead both of them to lash out at others. As well as becoming perhaps too trusting toward certain people, Shea admitted. Merope knew her friend still felt the sting of betrayal, even beyond death's gates.

* * *

Every sense within Merope's body tingled pleasantly when she saw each corner of Shea's lips curve gently into a serene smile. Breathing deeply as her viridescent eyes moved about; evaluating the merit behind a few possible future scenarios. Merope may not have known as of yet what Shea's end game was, but if the descendent of the great Salazar Slytherin knew anything, it was that without a doubt that there was a plan forming within that beautiful but lethal mind. She also wouldn't put it past the scheming redhead to already have a mental checklist of the things that she needed to do in order to get the desired effect that she wanted.

Merope knew the extent of Shea's calculations were something of splendor. Intricate pathways carved out in her mind, observing and weighing each possible scenario. If the data proved favorable, she stowed it away as a feasible outcome for later use. She'd renegotiate it through with possible outside interference, before moving onto the next. Her brow danced about broodingly as she continued. Occasionally her idea would have a less than favorable outcome, leading her lips to purse or curve downward, before resuming their neutral curve.

Merope was not daft. She knew their success relied heavily on her companion's careful design. Like a spider weaving the perfect web; she knew that just one wrong move, could set the whole structure askew. Setting up her father for his fall back into his cage, proved easier than she could've imagined. Her rigorous practical magic lessons, lasted for hours at a time; until she felt faint. At which point, Shea would sit her down with another hearty meal. The woman lavished her growing appetite with extravagant meals, Merope assumed she'd stolen from the well off establishments nearby.

Although they became so frequent, Merope wouldn't have put it past the witch to have stowed away a house elf, for such purposes. Though, where she could have hid them in the shack, Merlin only knew. Perhaps her russack; which she'd quickly realized was a vault in itself. The witch had tried to pull a bed out last night, and Merope had to have a chat about blending in to their environment. Though in the end she allowed a blanket, which they both shared, and a set of feather down pillows; which Merope enjoyed far too much for her own liking. Shea adored catering to the young mother's comfort at every possible moment. Even when she'd had to strong arm her militant friend into a few creature comforts.

Merope had just begun to fixate her thoughts back onto all of the ways last night's venture could have gone awry, when she was startled by a familiar voice.

"Don't worry.." Shea's soft voice cut through both her thought process, as well as the silence around the both of them. It gave Merope warmth to have someone to give her such soft reassurances, as well as someone to return them to. There by her side, Shea knew that Merope had been starting to obsess over negative thoughts, even when she hadn't spoken them out loud.

"I'm not." Merope responded back with a slightly cheeky element now within her voice. While she wasn't quite sure when this new confidence had developed within her, she was thankful for it all the same. The dark haired witch was sure that she would need it eventually within the future, near or distant. Now however, she was content with the fact that Shea's almost smirk widened into a full blown grin.

"Good.." The satisfied purr within the redhead's voice, could not have been lost on anyone with the ability to hear. It instantly made Merope's heart swell with emotion. Her meager and quiet life was taking quite a turn for the better, suddenly. Merope found herself breathless with anticipation, to see just how things were going to start changing. Free from the lash of her family's vile tongues and abusive touch, she could feel her lungs taking in more air around her. Her freedom was beginning to finally hit her, making her body seem weightless in comparison.

She gazed up at the sky, which had started to lighten around her to a brighter shade of blue. As soon as the sun cast it's light upon the horizon and through the trees, the thicket around them began to come to life. Merope came to the realization that it was a the start of a new beginning for the both of them, in every sense of the word. The dawning of a new age, in all forms of the phrase.

Movement caught within the corner of Merope's left eye, making her turn her head lazily to the side to witness Shea pull her body upwards with one graceful, fluid movement. The redhead smiled softly down at her, her bright eyes reflecting the person that others tried to control by using her morals against her. The same young woman who had tore off her reins of captivity, like the ferocious dragons of old. Man thought time controlled life. Complete and utter rubbish, she thought. What may seem a home to the frail, is just a cage to the fiercesome.

In her own way, Shea was a taker too; much like Tom was in that time. She felt the walls closing in, suffocating every ounce of air from her lungs. But instead of laying down to sleep that everlasting sleep of the dead, she evolved. Rewrote everything we know to be true. Sculpted her pathway from the sands of time, and made it her own. Time, after all was but a mere facet of the grand scheme of non linear things.

This young vibrant witch, whom Merope had begun to think of as a sister, in their fight to crawl out of their oppressor's reach; while closed off from most, loved with such a feral protectiveness. Merope had not one spare inkling in her mind, that this woman would not reduce herself to muggle fighting to protect those she considered hers. There was no need for sworn promises or magical vows between them. She was family.

"Come Merope, today is the day where we rise from the ashes. We have only a few more stops to make."

Merope pulled herself up, not having to guess what one of the few stops was since she had convinced Shea only a few days ago to allow her to fix one huge mistake that she had made in the midst of her heartbreaking loneliness. A smile curved upon Merope's lips, after all Shea had given her hope when she herself no longer had any and Merope didn't have a shadow of a doubt within her mind that as long as she had Shea by her side - somehow everything would turn out alright.

As she placed her hand into Shea's offered one, Merope only had the time to dwell on how much she was truly glad to have Shea come sweeping into her life that day in Diagon Alley before Shea pulled her gently forward into a secure hug. Having already shrunk and swished the self-cleaning bedding neatly back into the satchel; the both of them promptly disappeared from sight with a resounding crack piercing the air.

* * *

As the sky began to lighten, the temperature dropped; as many habitants living on the British Isles had grown so used to over the years. Through the hazy glassed window that received the brunt of the rivalling temperatures, the silhouette of a bedroom stood barely visible from the morning frost. A hand languidly reached out from beneath the heavy wool blanket, thrusting calloused nimble pads of his fingertips through the bedraggled black locks. A direct result of the man's restless night.

His deep chocolate colored eyes were highlighted by light bruising, caused by yet another sleepless night. Blinking a few times, he attempted to see past the exhaustion that blurred the edges of his vision. This young man, not but a few months over eighteen, heaved his body upwards into a sitting position. A groan of protest fell easily from his lips, at the start of a new day.

His bedding, a ostentatious swath of silk and wool, pushed downward to cover his hips. So stark a comparison, against his ivory complexion. Shown was his lean, but slightly muscular chest and forearms, to the cool morning air of a British spring. The young man tossed the warm, yet irritating covering from his frame completely off. Finally admitting defeat against his tumultuous mind, that refused to quiet long enough to garner any sleep. With only a slight hesitance, he dismissed the only warmth that shielded him from the chill around him. Revealing a simple pair of loose flannel pants, in his most favored shades of navy, gray, and black.

A yawn stretched his slightly chapped, sore lips in a wide oval. His movements, both uncoordinated and genuine in their endeavours. Hauling himself off of the bed to reluctantly start the day, his feet flat against the frigid wooden floor. Causing a mild chill to run through him. Another soft groan fell from his lips before he could halt it. He really didn't want to be up this early especially on the one day that he had off from work. However, he felt that efforts in attempt to once again get some sleep, no matter how exhausted he was, would prove infertile.

Just as his left palm came into contact with the soft material that made up one of his white, scoop neck t-shirts, a reverberating knock cut through the silence within his home. Effectively startling him, his head jerked toward the enchanted clock resting upon one of his night stands. Narrowing his eyes at the time. _7:45,_ he quickly read from the numbers that bordered the inside of it's face. Grim confusion swelled within him, making his dark eyebrows pull together. He surely didn't count on company stopping by. None the less, _this_ early.

A frown curved his lips downward, as the young man quickly threw his shirt over his head and thrusted his arms through the sleeves. Carefully making his way down the creaky, old stairs that led him to the ground floor. One of his dark orbs squinted when he stood silently in front of his front door, looking through the peephole. His heart jolted from within his chest with surprise and happiness when he bore witness to the woman standing on the other side. His breath quickened sharply at the sight of Merope's beautiful dark eyes, that had always expressively danced before his very eyes. Her long dark hair had been whisked up off of her shoulders into an elaborate twist, emitting a timeless elegance to her thin frame. He'd never seen her look so elegant.

A frown curved his lips downward, as the young man quickly threw his shirt over his head and thrusted his arms through the sleeves. Carefully making his way down the creaky, old stairs that led him to the ground floor. One of his dark orbs squinted when he stood silently in front of his front door, looking through the peephole. His heart jolted from within his chest with surprise and happiness when he bore witness to the woman standing on the other side. His breath quickened sharply at the sight of Merope's beautiful dark eyes, that had always expressively danced before his very eyes. Her long dark hair had been whisked up off of her shoulders into an elaborate twist, emitting a timeless elegance to her thin frame. He'd never seen her look so elegant.

Reluctantly shifting his gaze from the woman that effectively made his heart rapidly pound within his chest after each and every glance that he earned from her, his dark orbs zoned in on a particular shade of blood red that accompanied her just outside his door. Merope's eyes held a nervous gleam to them, but she didn't seem to be in any sort of distress or pain. The flash of color stood just out of range from the lens, the peephole provided. It would appear that they, whoever they were, had taken great care with that fact; and did not wish to identify themselves immediately.

The man shook his head to clear the thoughts that plagued his mind, before frantically fixing his hair with a hand in a desperate attempt to make himself look presentable. Opening the door gently after twisting the large golden colored deadbolt, his handsome face portrayed none of the surprise and worry that were etched upon his expression, a smile curving at him lips as he stared adoringly down at her. " _Good morning, Merope. What a lovely surprise to see you this morning._ "

Merope seemed to analyze every inch of his face with her orbs, as she stared up at him. The depths within them, possessing something that he couldn't identify; before she smiled up at him in a way that almost seemed forced. Almost as if Merope was trying her hardest not to break in a thousand pieces where she currently stood. "... _Hello, Tom_.."

* * *

The handsome young man now identified as Tom Riddle blinked his orbs rapidly in confusion as the emotion assaulted his senses, with awareness and intrigue following closely behind. He guessed that the reason was hidden within the way that she paused before and after her greeting, the silence making his pulse quickened under his skin and it seemed as if the world had abruptly stopped turning before speeding up again. It was as if something had come to a finalization, and for the life of him it seemed that Tom couldn't grasp what it was - no matter how hard he tried.

He made a thorough attempt to scan Merope's features in an effort to comprehend exactly what the problem was, though he archived no results since it seemed that there wasn't anything about her which seemed to be any different from when he last laid eyes on her. However there was a glint within the dark beauty's orbs that he hadn't taken notice of before, something that was akin to resign and sadness, mixing haphazardly with the love that shone brightly within them as she looked at him.

Tom paused in his search of her frame, noting that she didn't appear to be injured, watching her face in confusion as Merope's expressive dark orbs traced over each cure and the overall structure of his face. As if she were putting effort to etch his facial features to her memory with fierce commitment. He didn't have an answer as to why she felt the need to do such a thing, so instead Tom's right foot stepped forward seemingly on it's own accord in a move to comfort the woman that he was positive was the love of his life. With beauty both inside and out, while in possession of a caring heart, Tom hadn't ever felt as blessed as the very moment that he had found Merope. He voiced her name as a question then, asking more than one carefully concealed question within his voice.

Instead of the woman before him answering him, a sunkissed hand shot forward with the strength, speed and quickness that a snake possessed when it attacked, and all it served to do was make Tom attempt to intercept it. Try to protect Merope from something or someone that could cause her harm, however what caused him great pause was the way Merope reacted when it laid upon her right shoulder, seemingly to put her at instant ease.

Tom slowly turned his head hesitantly to the side, trailing his dark eyes up the harm to lock them upon a youthful feminine face that somehow was both beautiful and had the ability to made him tense more within a fraction of a second. There may have been a chosen warmth within the woman's movements toward Merope, but the way those orbs of an unusual shade of green regarded him.. analyzed him in a way that made Tom feel like he was being x-rayed, stood the hair on the back of his neck on end. Her posture was stiff, coiled dangerously - before the strange woman seemed to settle into a relaxed posture, with a smile curving pleasantly upon her face. Tom blinked twice, and wondered idly if he imagined her behavior since it was cast away the very next second.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Riddle. I am a friend of Merope's, My name is Shea.. Shea Potter." The red head reached up to cast a stray curl that dared to hang in her face, before offering her hand to him for him to shake as she introduced herself.

"Call me Tom." He requested with a confused smile gracing his lips before taking her offered hand with his own and shaking it once, before the woman that introduced herself as Shea smiled brightly at him before requesting that they speak with him. Tom nodded once after looking between Shea's smile and Merope's pleading eyes before gesturing to the front door that they were welcome to walk through to have whatever they wished to discuss with him about.

He figured that if Merope trusted her, found comfort within the redhead, as much as he had witnessed within the short time frame on his porch that the least he could do was be pleasant to her. Even if she was a complete stranger to him. Little did he know though, whether he wanted it to or not, that his life was about to change.

* * *

Allowing Merope to privately speak with the current Tom Riddle, had given Shea the perfect opportunity to take care of a few matters of her own. Summoning a scroll from deep within her russack, she examined the name signed in red ink at the bottom. _Vincent Gianni DiMarco._

When Shea had secluded herself in her godfather's family home, she spent many a night pouring over the many family contracts. Only the most stubborn and proud of families would consider their home more secure than Gringotts; the place where nearly every contract was stored. Though upon thinking back; both were defining character traits of nearly every pureblood that she'd ever encountered. Bringing a quirk to her lips at the not so subtle slight to her father and his beloved compatriot. She was not above admitting their flaws; though if she read any further into it, she might have to admit a few things herself. Then sniffed at the very thought.

Rolling the aging parchment back into it's sleeve, she swiftly apparated to The Leaky Cauldron, deftly negotiating the wizards meandering about the bar. One, shocked by her sudden appearance, knocked painfully into the long tables; spilling nearly his entire pint. Though judging by his delayed reaction, it had not been his first of the evening. _Perhaps, it's time to call it a night_ , she thought wryly.

Making it out the back before the drunkard forgot his manners, she tapped the brickwork with her hand; opening the entrance to Diagon Alley. As she had left their temporary shared wand with Merope, she was forced to work with her still slightly volatile magic wandlessly. She glanced around, ever watchful of onlookers before stepping through the threshold. A few familiar family owned shops greeted her, but most were singular establishments that would later be replaced by those of her time. A warmth resonated within her heart, after spotting Flourish and Blotts and had immediately thought of Hermione's love of the shop. Especially after having listened to many a long-winded tale on the Hogwarts Express, of what new books she'd discovered over the summer.

Pausing to gaze into the large glass paned window, she spotted a older gentleman tottering about vehemently mumbling, while replacing wrongly placed books into their rightful home. She smiled at the thought of her late friend gracefully aging, inside a warm bookshop like that, or at least until Shea pulled her away for a bit of excitement on the town. Smiling wistfully, she turned back to her task at hand after silently promising to herself that she'd return. There wouldn't be a empty shelf in her soulmate's childhood home, when she got through.

Both Merope and he had that same need to absorb as much knowledge as possible. The things Shea was teaching her young friend, was truly advanced, consisting of spells even a fourth or fifth year would have trouble casting. Yet, Merope tirelessly practiced until Shea had to force her to obey her bodily needs. By the end of lessons though, she always had it. By the next evening, Shea would sit down and work with her on casting it without speaking. A true skill and one that Shea knew would benefit her immensely.

Passing through the main shopping district she encountered broom shops, pet emporiums, wardrobe shops, numerous patisseries, and booksellers. Nearly every street had it's own sweet shop, she noticed. _At least some things don't change_ , she thought. Remembering Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor standing where a small chocolatier now stood. As she turned down the cobblestone street passed Gringotts, she began to see the business district take bloom. On the left, The Daily Prophet proudly loomed over the neighboring businesses; in it's perpetual need to snob the lesser known papers. There were certainly more law offices than she cared to count.

Shea came to such a sudden halt, her robes flew up around her frame before gracefully resuming their normal position. In between 'Ezra Alder's Timepieces and Pendulums' and 'Badgley, Bacchus, and Bancroft', yet another law office; stood an unassuming brick building. The sign above the door read: 'Tennison and Yaxley Inc.' _Ahhh, yes_ , she thought. Over the many lonely months locked away in Black Manor, long conversations became a common occurrence between herself and the late Mrs. Black. Frequently speaking with her portrait about a great many things. One of which was Walburga's penchant to advise her on whom to trust, especially when handling your private matters.

Of course, she only gave mention to a few well noted pureblooded establishments, and Shea understood her reasoning. Certain businesses that lived on through generations, prospered not on new clients, but through familial endorsement. Word of mouth, as it were. These two wizards in question, had a rare talent for locating nearly any object their client desired. Even going so far as to broker the sale of some highly illicit artifacts, little to the Ministry's knowledge. Provided, of course, that they received quite a substantial fee for their efforts.

But Shea's visit here was centered more on the former of their trades, than the latter. Which is what led Shea to their doorstep on this fine morning. She found herself in need of assistance concerning one Vincent DiMarco. Rapping twice respectfully with the large brass knocker, she was greeted at once by a young woman named, Aline. After stating the purpose of her visit, she was led to a private office upstairs.

"Mr. Tennison is out this morning, but Mr. Yaxley will be with you shortly Ms…" Aline drifted off, in hopes she would introduce herself.

"Forgive me. I'd rather not disclose my name." Shea stated demurely, looking down in hopes to dismiss her hovering. "I was told privacy was something of a common practice here. Was I mistaken to have come?" She stood up and Aline performed just as expected; rushing to appease the mysterious young woman. Yaxley swept in just as his assistant left the room, shaking her hand before gesturing for her to have a seat. His blond hair had been combed back into such a manner, as she'd come to expect in the present time. Stubble graced his cheeks and down to his sharp jawline, but what drew the eye was his arctic blue irises. _Overall, quite a roguishly handsome man_ , she thought.

"Good morning Miss, how might I be of service to you?" He queried.

Shea smirked at her next words, "I've been told by a rather brutally honest friend, that your services are quite exceptional, Sir." He raised his brows in surprise. "I have recently come across a document forged centuries ago, and wonder if you could by chance locate the current successor to his line? With the utmost secrecy toward your findings, of course." She smiled tightly, as she read the man's eyes to see if she could detect honesty behind them.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you've heard of our work. That alone states the nature of your seriousness. Few would admit to such illegitimate dealings to just anyone; and of course we value your privacy as much as our own." He paused. "That being said, I'm quite interested to learn where the trail may take me. Do you happen to have the document on you?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I do." Producing the parchment for him to look over, she carefully placed it across his desk. "I'm quite familiar with the Black line, that is of no concern. The heir I pursue is DiMarco. I wish to know his whereabouts." Walburga and Shea had discussed the contract over tea late one evening. Though try as she might, she knew not the details concerning the whereabouts of the DiMarco line. Though she did remember her sister in-law Lucretia mentioning that upon first glance, the beauty of her Yorkshire home could nearly stand on equal ground, as their families' grand estate in London. Stating that the resemblance was surely something uncanny. Proof that shared genius ran deeper than name alone, but rather something much more viscous.

Walburga, not realizing at the time exactly what she'd meant by the comment. Surely another slight by her, over Orion inheriting the manor instead of herself. The esteemed Black Manor that housed more hidden passageways and charms, within it's walls, than she herself cared to count. The old hag, burned with hatred over it's loss. But thinking back over the shared architecture between the two homes, the sheer design alone. She was quite sure Lucretia had tracked down an heir to the acclaimed DiMarco line. _The old bat dared to mock me with her own cheap counterfeit designs,_ she ranted. Finally sensing the conversation devolving, Shea asked what made this house so unique, that even the untrained eye could feel it's magical pulse.

Walburga looked down at the young woman, so reminiscent of herself and for a second forgot herself. "The house is alive." Forgetting, in that moment, to hold her tongue against those not of her direct line.

Shea stared down at Vincent Gianni DiMarco's signature, alongside Yaxley in his office. He cast a few ordinary trace sweeps across the document, before sensing something powerful blocking his efforts. "I can run the trace, but it will take me a few days to decipher the exact magical signature. It's been thoroughly scrambled." He squinted over the artifact, reading the magical codes emitting from the bottom of the page.

"You have three days Mr. Yaxley. I'll be back to collect both the artifact and the location then. Your payment will be in your vault by eight o'clock Wednesday morning." Standing up, Shea gathered her belongings, before nodding her head at the man. She supposed she lingered long enough and needed to return to The Riddle House to check on Merope. The redhead didn't have one single doubt plaguing her mind that it wasn't indeed hard on Merope to discontinue what she had with the charming man that the dark haired beauty loved. It wouldn't help in future years that Merope's little boy would grow up to look like a splitting image of his father. However, Merope would never feel alone ever again if Shea had anything to say about it, because from this point on..

No matter what life may throw at them, they had each other now and they were going to fight to make the rest of their lives, the best of their lives.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and we hope you like it. :) Feedback is always welcomed.


	9. Walking the line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!! We hope that you like this chapter and that you all have a good new years. :)

Merope blearily awoke to the soft sound of scratching in their room. Turning over, her eyes blinking furiously at the sight that greeted her. Glancing over at the antique timepiece she’d nicked from her father, during one of his many stints at Azkaban; she saw it was only half past five. The ornate silver object was one of the last remaining pieces of their family’s legacy. She’d ecarefully wrapped each aged relic in articles of clothing, and stowed them away under a loose floorboard in the kitchen. Safe from her father’s drunken wrath and her brother’s gambling habit. Brows lowering, she turned back to her travelling companion; whom had been furiously pouring over a large roll of parchment while drinking whisky of some sort.

Shea, who had been shaken awake from vicious night terrors, quickly banished the thought of sleep entirely. Focusing instead on sketching out a few of her ideas, concerning their next place of residence. She had scrawled through too many designs to keep starting fresh, so once more she turned to her magic. Vanishing ink from the parchment much in the same way The Marauders designed their map of Hogwarts. In fact, you could say she was a second generation architect herself, she mused.

Her ruminations were diverted only once, when she headed downstairs to the closed bar. Spotting an aged bottle of some of the finest scotch she’d ever laid eyes on. Second only to Sirius’s _special stash,_ which he’d thought no one had discovered. Grabbing a glass, she threw down more than enough payment for the bottle. Spending the next few minutes slowly relishing the flavors, sizzling to life across her taste buds.

She began with what she already knew. Drawing on ideas she had seen thriving generations later in Black Manor and Hogwarts. Not to say if you looked hard enough, you couldn’t spy conceptual designs from her time spent in The Ministry of Magic. Finally glad to be able to make use of those long hours she’d spent flipping through that art history reference book; she found hidden in the Dursley's attic. She’d never uncovered how such a controversial book had made it’s way into the hands of a family, who turned their nose up at the vaguest whiff of nonconformity. Perhaps it had belonged to her mother, she mused.

Back arched over the worn desk, she dipped her quill back into the ink pot, sloshing the liquid inside a bit at her jerky motions. Simultaneously planning schematic ideas, while she thought over her next moves. She needed to disclose with Merope what their next stage would be. _That ceiling should be vaulted._ Location would be a thing to think over, certainly; but also discussing what sort of household she planned to keep. _Windows, to let in more light here, here, and there. Stretching across that wall there, in it’s entirety. Perfect._

In fact, until Merope cleared her throat, Shea hadn’t even heard her shuffling. Finally looking up past the candlelight, she pushed a stray curl out of her eyes. “What are you working on?” Merope queried, eyeing a somewhat askew version of her new friend warily.

“I have something to confess. Yesterday, while you spoke with Tom, I ran a few errands of my own.” Green eyes cast themselves downward at her admission of guilt. “I didn’t tell you about it, since I knew you plenty on your mind already.” Softly asking: “How did it go, by the way? I didn’t want to pry so soon after... _”_ Shea drifted off midway through her explanation. 

“It didn’t go half a bad as I expected it would. It still hurt me though.” She lowly spoke. Taking a deep breath she reiterated what she’d told Shea on the front steps leaving the Riddle House. “But it’s done. We don’t have to worry about him interfering and endangering my son’s future.” She placed her palm across her new reason for existing, while smiling softly. “What kind of errands?”

“I’ve inquired as to the whereabouts of an architect, whom I think will be a fine choice in moving forward. _”_ Shea divulged. “His ancestor was famed for using quite an unheard of method of home security. Something I think we both should weigh heavily, when building a home fit for your son.” Taking a swig from her glass, she settled back in. “Mr. Yaxley has been highly recommended by an esteemed friend of mine in the future. His discreet abilities become quite sought after in the next few years, when he reaches the pinnacle of his career.”

Unfolding some of the more pertinent details concerning her more recent visit to Diagon Alley, Shea waved her friend over to the blueprints to which Merope gasped when she laid her eyes upon them. “It’s a bit of a rough sketch really, I know. But I was thinking of ways to collaborate all the different elements I could see you valuing in your dream home. That’s what this is Merope. It’s the home you’ll raise him in; grow old in. So feel free to tell me any thought or concerns you might have about any of this.” 

Taking a deep breath before Shea finally lunged onto her next train of thought, “..But if you think for one second, that I’ll sit here and listen to you tell me some bollocks about it being too much, you’ve got another thing coming.” The redhead eyed Merope sternly, informing the other woman that should she attempt it, Shea was not above rolling this parchment up and bopping her overtop the head in matronly scorn.

Merope, who’d finally been allowed to speak; could scarcely think of two words to put together from shock. Not believing her eyes at the sheer size of the home.  _ Home! Piffle. Small town, more like _ she thought. “Have you any ideas where to begin looking for this architect?”

“Not to worry. By tomorrow, we’ll have our answer. What we need now is to start scouting locations.” Shea paused momentarily to take another drink before continuing, “Do you like the idea of these front facing walls, leading into a cavernous interior?”

“I do.” Merope gazed longingly as the floor plan leading into the nursery. “It sounds perfect.” She smiled beatifically at Shea. Thinking to herself how far she would go to ensure this young woman received every bit of thanks she deserved. “Almost like you’ve already got some place in mind. Am I correct?”

A smile just curved upon Shea’s lips as she stared back at the darker haired woman knowingly. “Perhaps..”

....

Shea took full advantage of their travels up the countryside. Giving Merope as much practical knowledge as possible. Teaching her of spells to counter weather, everyday mishaps, and a number of other scenarios. Mundane spells that she had to learn herself at one point, having not been raised in the Magical World. 

They spent a short while at a local diner, assimilating back into the Muggle World. Discussing matters featured in the local papers, and such. Shea remembered her history lessons well though; the Roaring Twenties were coming to an end and the Great Depression was just about to rear it’s head. Mindful to never take advantage of the Muggles they came into contact with, the two politely greeted anyone curious as to their mysterious arrival. They were quite a sight too, for Shea spared no expense. Allowing Merope to experience the finer things in life for once.

While The Leaky Cauldron didn’t offer much of a morning feast, the mere idea of coffee and tea had the duo rising far earlier than their bodies wanted. They took their morning meal in their rooms, while they readied for the day. Merope nursed a small cup of green tea with lemon, while Shea doused her morning coffee with cream and few hearty teaspoons of sugar. Shortly after, they both headed out to get fitted for a few new sets of robes; as well as a few Muggle-style dresses and such. 

Madame Delphine’s humble shop sat right off the beaten path, settled in a nook between two bookstores. The shopkeeper understanding immediately after speaking with Merope, what Shea meant about needing to treat her friend to a little luxury. The blond woman held a sort of gentile French elegance to her every movement, reminding Shea a bit of her Triwizard competitor, Fleur Delacour. 

The soft-spoken seamstress worked fast and efficiently. Sending them off with enough robes to fill a trunk. The rest of their order, she assured, would be ready before the end of the week. In fact, Merope’s humble disposition had endeared the woman so profoundly, she insisted them take her calling card. Allowing them to send for Val, as she told them to call her; whenever the need arose. A positively surprising turn of events, as soon Merope’s pregnancy would begin to make her current wardrobe unsuitable.

  
Hiring a driver to carry them up along the coastline, they each got a taste of their new life. Merope stepped carefully up the hillside in her mid-calf length satin dress, a beautifully complimenting shade of violet. Shea herself wore a crisp cream blouse, with a long navy silk skirt that hugged her every curve. The fresh air seemed to make Merope’s eyes light up with a new gleam. Her long nearly black locks, whipping free from their confines, giving her an exhilarated look that Shea couldn’t help but to marvel. As well as their young driver. Subtly, of course. Shea wondered how long it would take before she could convince her cherished friend exactly how beautiful she was. Especially after receiving such mental abuse, for so long; as Merope had.  _ A fine challenge _ , she told herself.

Alas finally, after travelling all day from sun up to sun down, they decided upon a fitting site for their future home. 

....

Returning back in London was a fair bit less strenuous, as they could simply apparate back to their room in The Leaky Cauldron. Both were eager to get back, thoroughly exhausted from their long day estate hunting in the countryside. Of course, London being hit with a series of violent storms led the night to seemingly pass incredibly slow. Settling in by the fire, they stretched out blankets and pillows. Merope had travelled down to the kitchens, ordering a pair of hot chocolates to be brought up. 

In the meantime they sat around the blueprints, each adding a few finishing touches on rooms. Merope thinking over where she wanted rooms to connect, as well as if she wanted to include many guest rooms. Instinctively, she’d far preferred a more intimate home. So, Shea left the floor plans simple, in that area. Already planning a few defining features to add to the home’s grandeur. Shea wanted this home to be perfect, and built for many generations to come. As she added another parchment to the collection, she began to ruminate over the library. There  _ had _ to be a library. No respectable heir of Salazar Slytherin would not own an ungodly amount of books. As she began sketching the concept running behind her eyelids, she didn’t see the cogs churning in Meropes eyes.

Merope herself, actually hadn’t given much thought to the extra guest rooms at the time; thinking only of the now. But as she savored her hot cocoa, she began to think of other generations who would inherit the home. More so, children. Yes, the thought of grandchildren filling the home with life would be something most pleasing, she thought. Gazing pensively in her flame-haired friend’s direction, she thought over her future. Perhaps, a little subtlety would be required here. As the home could very well house Shea’s children, as well as her son’s. Smiling pleasantly as the image whirred through her mind. Motherhood was getting to her, she was sure of it. 

These were the beginnings of some devious grandmotherly machinations, on her part. Chuckling quietly to herself, she sipped her drink appreciatively. “Two guest rooms, please.” Grinning slyly as Shea added the two rooms accordingly without a second thought.

  
As the storm raged on, sleep finally overtook them. After waking the next morning, the two dressed; strolling casually down the cobblestoned streets of Diagon Alley. They stopped by a few shops to browse, purchasing a few instructive books and tools for Merope. While wishing farewell to one of the shopkeepers, Shea mentioned that they were about to search for a diner and asked if they had any recommendations. Quickly the older wizard advised them to try the new cafe that had opened up around the corner. ‘The Can-Can Brasserie,’ had quite a few patrons scattered about it’s booths, for so early. 

Tucking into the rich and buttery beignets, the waitress had set down between them; powdered sugar coated their lips and fingers alike. Sipping their pumpkin juice relaxedly, they began to chat quietly about where they hoped their search would take them. Stopping quickly off at Gringotts, Shea made her rather large contribution to Mr. Yaxley’s vaults. Merope eyed the coin leaving Shea’s russack, with only a raise of brow. 

Not long after, Shea spoke quietly of their need to return to the bank, once business was sorted. It was high time Merope had a blood test done to see if she had any family ties with anyone or any access to abandoned vaults. There was no quicker way. It was an ancient ritual, that only the goblins still practiced. It would be prudent to keep an eye on any greedy relatives, seeking to maneuver themselves into a better standing. Shea would  _ not  _ have strays showing up at their doorstep unannounced.The Slytherin vaults would need to be reassessed as well, and safe guarded against anyone other than Merope and her son.

Promptly arriving without further adieu, they proceeded to walk through the halls leading to his office. Yaxley was quick to introduce himself to Merope and show them to their seats. His eyes alight with discovery. He spoke quickly of his means of which he had cracked the runes spelled overtop the document, should they have need to reassess it’s contents. Swiftly moving on to mention all remaining members of the DiMarco line. Two lived off the continent and go by different surnames, but the third stayed close to his ancestor’s home. Living in a little Italian town called Terracina, in between Rome and Naples. 

“His name is Giovanni DiMarco. Named after his ancestor, I’d imagine. An older fellow. He keeps to himself mostly, I’d asked around to see if anyone knew of him. Did a little digging into the estate market; both Magical and Muggle and came up empty.” Pausing for dramatic effect, he continued.

“Then I remembered his ancestor dealt with Dark families, like the Blacks. Returning to _ Strada D’oro _ , Italy’s version of Diagon alley, I was directed to one of their darker off shoots. There I found someone who knew who I spoke of. Though, he said he hadn’t seen the man in years. He’s retired, it seems.”

Shea digested where they’d be headed next. Italy was her first guess, what with an extensive name like  _ Vincent Gianni DiMarco.  _ Hearing that he’d retired was a bit disappointing, but Shea was anything if not adamant that this man could do what she needed done.

  
Merope sighed disappointedly at hearing he was out of business, as it were. “That’s unfortunate.” Looking over at her friend, she noticed a vague lack of dismay. Letting out her breath, she murmured the next six words with dry amusement tainting her tone, having acknowledging within these few months that Shea Potter seemed to have a solution for every situation, no matter what it was. Her intelligent mind seemed to create plans for every letter of the alphabet with ease.. 

“We’re going to Terracina, aren’t we?” Her companion simply quirked her lips at the deduction, confirming without words being spoken that Merope was on the same train of thought as she was.

Yaxley, who’d yet to understand the full extent of their efforts, furrowed his brow. “Would you be interested in me initiating contact with him? He could be dangerous.” Looking between the two young women, before settling his gaze on the red-haired vixen who’d hired him to begin with. 

“That won’t be necessary.” Shea’s voice was what some may have considered to be low, however it was still firm and strong as it seemingly echoed through the silence that shrouded around them after Yaxley was done speaking. A smirk curved upon her lips for what may have been the hundredth time today, yet it concealed secrets hidden within it that made the wizard before her resist the urge to shift from within his seat. The way she had spoken was in such a way that the redhead had no doubt plaguing her mind that she could defend herself, even against an unknown wizard that he had sutley warned both females about.. and not for the first time since meeting this woman did Yaxley feel that there was indeed something unworldly about her. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on to pinpoint.

With a downturn of his lips in such an emotion that he couldn’t quite name, Yaxley raised an eyebrow at the bold statement that the redhead had given him - in addition to the unsurprised, and seemingly relaxed expression etched upon Merope’s face - before allowing his magic to sutley sceep within the room. Bouncing off of the walls in an eager attempt to assist him in assessing both of the beautiful females before him, he had begun first with Merope.

There was something about this woman that he couldn’t understand, that twisted something within his stomach at the sight of her. It was more than the last name that she possessed, it was more than the charming attitude and her pose that she regarded him with - it was something that of which ached within his very soul. While not an unworldly beauty like the woman that sat beside her, Merope was attractive to him in ways that were of him recognizing her as a survivor - in a similar regard that he himself was. Struggling through circumstances and living to tell the tale, Merope still perched herself in the plush seat  as if she were a queen upon a throne that was beloved by her people. Her magic was strong, even if it was still in the beginning stages of it’s development and if it was powerful now then Yaxley could barely hide his anticipation of what Merope would become when the dark haired witch was fully trained. Even now, Merope shivered at the warmth that engulfed her form as his magic did.

  
He shifted his gaze upon Shea, and was shortly taken aback when the redhead’s bright green eyes narrowed with conflicting mischief and that of an unspoken challenge. It was a way that wasn’t to be regarded in a move that the redhead was irate, as opposed to that of a humorously spoken dare. As if this whole thing in itself amused her in a way that he could hardly attempt to acknowledge. A warrior like her companion, Shea’s body was coiled in a way that was in a defensive state.. as a snake ready to strike it’s target at a moment's notice to protect itself, or as Yaxley imposed it was to protect her dark haired companion. If it wasn’t enough of her outer appearance to be that of a combat trained warrior at the age of seventeen, Shea Potter’s magic was the sharpened sword in which would strike ten thousand enemies down if it need be. Endless as it was, it seemed that after finding it Yaxley couldn’t see the bottom in which it stopped.

A throat cleared and as soon as Yaxley’s eyebrows furrowed together in awe at the redhead’s unbelievably power that was tinted dark gray, it was suspiciously cut off from his sensors only to abruptly leave him wide eyed at the raised eyebrow that Shea aimed in his direction. These two females, whatever the magnificent tale was behind their friendship, were powerful within their own right. 

A light reflected within his orbs as they snapped from one to the other and back again, before Yaxley’s lips curved upward into an almost smile at the thought of just what the future held for these two before him. He hesitated only momentarily before nodding his head a fraction in agreement, “..So be it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to review and let the awesome AvalonTheLadyKiller and I know what you think. Thank you so much for reading. :)


	10. Breaking Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, people of earth - after what seems like such a long wait - AvalonTheLadyKiller and I are putting out another chapter. Chapter 10: Breaking Away. I love this woman so much, not only does she give me the pleasure of working with her, but her twist of wording leaves me absolutely breathless. Check out her story 'Iridescent' whenever you get the chance, I assure you that you won't be disappointed. This chapter has been reworked so many times, edited and refined to the very last detail to give it's flow and badassery. Thank you so much for clicking this story, as well as your comments, bookmarks, and kudos. This chapter is probably the most lengthy chapter that we have ever put out, (it is 6,045 words) and hopefully they will keep coming. We can only hope that you like it as much as we do! :)

_Previously on Chapter 9:_

_Yaxley's eyebrows furrowed together in awe at the redhead's unbelievable power. Tinted a deep foreboding gray, he felt as though he was staring into the abyss. Between one breath and the next, his vision cleared. Her magic concealing itself once more behind her heavy protection wards; making detection nigh impossible._

_He was left wide eyed, causing Shea to aim a raised a brow in challenge at his gaping expression. Undeterred, the wizard continued to study the brazen female and her companion with renewed vigor. These two females, whatever the magnificent tale was behind their friendship, were powerful within their own right._

_A light reflected within his orbs as they snapped from one to the other and back again, before Yaxley's lips curved upward into an almost smile at the thought of just what the future held for them. He couldn't deny the beads of sweat that had broke out across his brow, at the sheer strength of her magical aura. So domineering and wild, he could scarcely believe it came from the slight creature before him. But, if there was one thing the business had taught him, it was to follow his senses. He hesitated only momentarily before nodding his head a fraction in agreement, "..So be it."_

_Fully aware they didn't require his permission to do so, but he felt compelled to reach out a hand in friendship toward them. Knowing one day, this moment might prove most beneficial to him. Influence, power, and secrets ran the Wizarding World after all, and these beautiful women held all three in the palms of their hands. Effortlessly, as though such a thing wasn't a poisonous snake, waiting to sink its teeth into its holder. He'd known far greater men perish through such an end. This woman though, she radiated pure unadulterated control. A kind that demanded respect; and commanded legions._

* * *

Chapter 10: Breaking Away

After leaving Tennison and Yaxley Inc., Shea and Merope swiftly made their way to the building across the plaza. The female Gaunt heir barely managing to keep up with her companion's brisk pace, as Shea's longer legs allowed for quite a stride. But it was the confidence which bled from her friend's every movement, that made Merope positively green with envy. She longed to walk into a room, commanding the attention of every witch or wizard with naught but a flourish of her magic. This yearning filled her to the brim with curious trepidity. Her heart raced under her breast at the sheer idea of their journey ahead.

The storybooks her nanny had read to her as a young child, had been laden with tales of magical folk. Powerful witches and wizards who'd had adventures in far off places. Long before her father had discovered her magical abilities to be so severely understated, she'd yearned to be one of those powerful leading ladies. Young Merope had closed her eyes every night, wishing to grow into one of those beautiful young women. Fair in looks and her magic, as fearsome as Morgana herself. Aspirations she'd long since forgotten, after her father's devolving mental condition.

She'd buried her childhood wants so deep, she could scarcely picture a time when her father had looked upon her pleasedly. The inquisitive little girl who'd learned to read at such a young age despite her visual disability, had died in Marvolo's eyes the moment he'd taken her to that mediwitch. ' _Damaged magical core_ ,' The witch had announced dreadfully, and that she was ' _sorry for his loss_.' A response the brunette found repulsive, as Merope had long suspected her father to be the one to blame for the magical malady. She knew his temper was to blame for her mother's many ailments. Her brother had admitted to such, after she'd found dried blood in the cracks between the floorboards in the kitchen.

Years had passed, as the urge to escape lessened with every day; with every beating. She'd long ago slipped into a dark depression. Starving herself from physical interactions and basic bodily needs. She'd found herself almost desiring the feel of her father's curses, to feel anything at all. Of course, as his drinking habits took control of his mind, he'd became more than willing to dole them out liberally in her direction.

Over the years, the last of their family's money disappeared. Sieved through her father's careless spending and inability to maintain some modicum of an occupation. He was forced to sell off every last piece of their family's remaining heirlooms to chase this high. Only the few she had been able to hide away had survived such an end. For years, he drowned his sorrow and anger in whatever swill he could afford that day. Until even her troll-like waste of a brother, had noticed the emptied rooms after returning home from Hogwarts in the summer. Both Marvolo and Morfin, both sought to place their blame firmly on her condition. To them, she was the chink in their family's line. A weakness, that would leave their family vulnerable. Only Merope saw their faults for what they truly were.

Now that she found herself outside the confines of the shack, looking out ahead into the unknown; she didn't know what to make of the panicked flutter in her heart. The sun's warm rays rained pleasantly down on Diagon Alley that morning, a rarity in itself; but the real reason she was brought out of her darker thoughts was the warm hand that grasped hers, so fervently.

At once, she stared up at the caring eyes of her travelling companion. The copper streaks in Shea's hair flaring to life animatedly, under the sun's touch. Merope tightened her own fingers in response, as the two shared but one more heavy look.

Shea understood that Merope's pain went far beyond anything she could simply 'fix'. She could offer her guidance and support, but Merope needed to find her own way back to the light. That journey was for her alone. Something she understood from her years under her Aunt and Uncle's roof. In time, Shea held no doubt that Merope would heal, as she herself had done. It was their way as women, resilient despite all the hardships they were forced through. It was Merope's inner strength that led her to accept Shea's friendship that day in Diagon Alley. After all, true courage lies in knowing when to ask for help. Something Shea admired greatly about her companion.

As they resumed their fast pace around the street's other occupants, Merope thought her friend looked positively leonine. She smiled as she imagined her friend loping through the tall grasses, on the hunt for her next meal. When the breeze picked up, her locks tousled wildly through the air. _No wonder my son was so enraptured by her, one could hardly forget such a witch,_ she found herself musing. She certainly felt safer in her company.

Shea's feet sped across the cobbled pavement, as though it was covered in blazing coals; not concerned in the slightest with society's standards for young ladies. Her past after all, had allowed for little frivolity concerning the fairer sex. She thought herself as capable as any man, and certainly wasn't cowed by any rules forced upon her by the times. Something which made her catch more than one pair of eyes in this less-modern world. The feeling of being watched caused her skin to prickle in vexation. She abhorred being gawked at like one of the neighbors her aunt would loathe for their blatant non-conformity. It made her want to bare her teeth in indignation.

As an irritated look overtook her companion's features, Merope watched her surge forth with more speed. _Merlin's beard! It's as if the cogs in her mind, set both her feet and thoughts into motion simultaneously._ The Gaunt heir noted with quite a bit of exasperated humor. Shea continued at her near apparating speed up the step, while Merope tried her best to step in sync with her. The brunette found herself wondering if the woman, in fact, had any sphinx blood in her line. The Egyptian magical creature was quite a powerful enigma. Full of riddles, agility, and above all else, danger. Merope couldn't help but to shake her head at the likeness. Chuckling to herself all the while.

Her deep chocolate colored eyes had enough problems following Shea's everyday movements. Most of which were far too instinctual to be fully human, giving her that predatorial edge. A trait that easily frightened off most anyone whom she found undesirable. _Poor Mr. Yaxley,_ she thought. Barely able to repress her amusement at the scene, she'd just witnessed.

Shea, who had just glanced over at her companion, had to do a double-take. "Whatever are you thinking about, Ro? You look absolutely pained." Scrutinizing her features with a narrowed eye she continued, " _You look like you've just taken a grand look at Pug-faced Parkinson."_ At Merope's curious look, she batted her hand. " _A Slytherin girl I had the displeasure of encountering, for entirely too many years. Her face was somewhat less charming than her person, if that was even possible."_ The crimson haired beauty couldn't help but grin wryly at the thought.

Merope just shook her head at her friend's antics. She understood House rivalries ran deep. To add teenage angst, discord, and magic into the mix seemed like an unstable combination. " _I was just thinking over how you, scared the doxy lights out of poor Mr. Yaxley, back there. We need to work on your people skills, dear."_ She announced with no shortage of laughter.

Rolling her eyes in exaggerated displeasure, the left corner of Shea's lips twitched upwards into an almost smile as they approached the shop window of the travel boutique. The sign, a bold parody of letters that Merope had to raise an eyebrow at, unimpressed. It felt very over the top in color, and not at all her taste. Turning to the red-haired woman at her side, she queried how portkeys worked. For she remembered hearing the word mentioned by the wizard, whose office they'd just vacated. She walked through the door, just as Shea had gotten to describing the sensation portkey travel brought.

But as Merope stepped first through the threshold, she was taken off guard by the brooding blonde man rushing out passed her. Merope could only form a gasp in response to him rudely bumping into her and causing her to almost lose her balance. He made to keep walking, but Shea held out her hand in front of his chest; magically holding him in place. Narrowing her eyes at his lack of manners.

Merope swore Shea's long hair flared out behind her like she was underwater. Twisting and twirling with unadulterated magic that lept to the surface, as protectiveness surged for within the depths of the younger woman. Her magic seeming to saturate the air with dark intent as if Merope was wronged in some way by the man. As if Shea could, and Merope supposed that the fiery woman undoubtedly would, avenge her by any means necessary.

" _I believe you owe my friend an apology.. Or do you possess no manners at all?"_ Shea scowled furiously up at his profile. Releasing her magic from its tight bindings, she sought to intimidate him. However whilst she did succeed in overwhelming his senses, it was perhaps not quite in the way she intended.

Standing directly at her shoulder, she hadn't been able to give him a thorough once over.. though as she spoke the man turned his frame slowly to face her, as if he was enraged she thought to stop his exit. She knew from his stiff body language alone, he was pure-blooded. Something she'd become quite attuned at spotting, after watching their mannerisms at Hogwarts. It took perhaps a mere three seconds, before Shea realized just who she had stopped. Carefully she fought to keep her expression neutral so as not to alert him to her internal unease. Though it did little to stop her jaw from clenching in agitation. Her eyes flashed a deeper shade of emerald, from her attempts to restrain her fiery temper.

But by then, he had gotten quite a taste for what dark magic she thought to smother him with. The man, having held an initial look of indignation, could not keep his eyes from wandering down her body and back up to those eyes that burned so brightly with the exact color of the killing curse. "My... _sincerest_ apologies _, love._ " He said with an air that said he was _almost_ sorry, but not quite.

His wondering eyes did him no favor, of course. For if she had any reservations about pursuing this conversation any further, his demeaning pet name killed any restraint she had. All at once, her conversations with Mrs. Black came to mind. The older woman who had taught her the pureblood ways; manners and dignity above all else. The fact that he'd laid his hands on Merope, in her pregnant state; caused steam to practically emit from her ears.

Slowly, she straightened her spine like a snake about to strike. Speaking dangerously low, as she shot his pet name back at him with unveiled distaste. " _Perhaps, you misheard me...love? I said you owe my friend the apology. Now, I don't know what kind of wizard you think you are tossing respectable pureblood witches to the side, like Muggle trash; but hear me, you will excuse yourself."_

Merope at this point was afraid this would come to an all out duel, before long. Stepping forward cautiously, she tried desperately to calm the situation before it escalated. There was something about the man before them that forced a shiver down her spine, as she tried to analyze just what it was that set her friend off. She watched Shea's eyes flicker between offense and defense every few seconds with a turbulent ease.

All at once, the clouds overhead moved to block out any sunlight aimed toward their contemptuous meeting. Their Dark and Grey magic threw itself against the other violently, auras clashing without need of any channeled spellcraft. Merope gazed upwards briefly as the dark clouds began to weigh heavily over the street, responding to the potent display of unrestrained magic down below. Shea's features appeared more feral than usual, but the wizard's took on a devilish sort of glee. Something which led Merope to instinctively take a step back in apprehension.

The man, who looked no older than 30, finally took a closer look at the young woman's silent companion. Taking a brief diagnostic with his magic, he finally sensed her 'state.' At long last realizing the seriousness of his situation. Looking back to the flame-haired woman briefly, who stood as poised and defensive as a human shield, he spoke to her pregnant companion. " _Please excuse my rudeness ma'am. In my haste I forgot my manners and because of that, I offer you my sincerest apologies."_

Merope, who had been but a moment away from yanking Shea bodily back into the shop with her, nodded in thanks. She couldn't help but be shocked that her friend's outburst had resulted in a respectful look from the wizard. He had, at first been agitated that Shea had stopped him, but then Merope caught sight of something more brewing beneath his eyes. A covetous look that she worried would affect their plans. Making her way to Shea's side protectively, she watched the man cautiously.

He resumed his gaze back on the red-headed lioness who had stopped him in his tracks. Proving herself to be quite the enchantress, by way of that incredibly controlled burst of wandless magic. He could not help but to wonder who exactly this witch was. She, who dared regard him without fear or wavering in fright. Extending his lean robed arm out, he spoke genially the the pair. " _Gellert Grindelwald, at your service."_

Silently observing how 'she' would react upon hearing the name of a rising Dark Lord escape his lips after he introduced himself, the man narrowed his eyes a fraction as he waited impatiently for their reactions. His name was after all, just beginning to grace the pages of the Daily Prophet. Aristocrats and lower magical folk alike had begun to scrutinize his every move; both classes eager to see what changes he'd bring to their insufferable existences. He could not lie, he felt disgusted by the passive measures wizardkind had taken in their approach to Muggle affairs.

Shea placed her hand into his while keeping him under her hawk-like stare, seeming to be outwardly as unaffected by his name as she truly was from within. She, who had stood her ground against the world's most powerful Dark Lord, could hardly be expected to quiver from fear at this overeager warmonger. This wizard's reputation meant little to her. For while his appearance was indeed unexpected, Shea began to feel the stirrings of amusement as he struggled to regain his composure.

Giving her a mere second to bathe in how severely her presence affected him. For just a moment, his features grew unsteady. Unsure of how to force her ironclad resistance to heal. Her dominant will as tempestuous as the rolling magic in the air between them. This flicker, vanished with the act of bringing her hand up to his lips. He grazed the back of her palm with a seductive caress. His orbs hungrily scanning her own in vain to uncover the secrets behind them. Furthermore, a name.

" _Charmed_." Shea met his gaze head on with her face blank of emotion, the word spoken in a tone that could have been mistaken as pleasant. Yet if anyone had listened closely they would have picked up on the underlying irritation within her voice. Conveying just how unimpressed she was by his maneuver to get her to reveal her name. Something that held a great deal of power in this world. Above all else, something she was quite determined to keep between her soulmate's mother and herself. The fewer that knew, after all, meant fewer to have to keep under her steady watch.

For while she knew her appearance was sure to cause ripples in time, she wasn't quite ready to deal with the burgeoning waves. Especially before she and Merope settled their affairs in order. There was far too much at stake to cause such violent upheavals. She was after all, quite aware of how many futures she was changing, by this little venture. She had absolutely no desire to have come through the portal to the Other Side, only to perish here instead of in the Veil; with her family at her side. And make no mistake, Gellert Grindelwald was by no means a man of little means.

She remembered well the history surrounding the once great wizard. He thrived from causing deathly chaos. Striking down all that opposed him, whichever their blood status. When he was finally defeated; locked inside that cell in Nurmengard, his influence had already wracked the Muggle World completely. It was by his hand, that the Muggle World saw its Second World War. His influence over that weak Muggle's mind could have been heralded, had she had not despised the swine's sheer existence so fully. Oppression enraged her. It reminded her of the years she'd spent locked up in a cupboard under the stairs, like an animal. Released only at their pleasure. Only then to be held on a leash so tight, she forgot what freedom looked like. But more importantly, who _she_ was. _What_ she was. She snarled and attacked at their whim; those who were supposed to guide her.

But even as a babe, when frightened, she lashed out at the beast. The only one in the world quite like her. The only one she could ever truly call _mate,_ for that was what he was. Down to their very souls. He was hers. And she was his. Ferocious in their turbulent powers and unwilling to bow to those weaker. They would be a force to reckon with.

But this Grindelwald, he was quite the unknown factor in her schemes. That in itself made him a dangerous player. One she would not turn her back on. For anyone strong enough to resist her influence and defy her will, could surely corner her young mate. Unable to defend himself from attack, deep in the safety of his mother's womb. A fact she found herself restless over most nights. Merope knew there would come a time when she would have to be _his_ protector. They had discussed the possibility of an outsider's attack early on. Shea would be incapacitated by the ritual. A mere shell of the witch she was now; defenseless and innocent of all but her new life. Reborn to live again, the way history should have came to pass.

Merope, who regarded the pair curiously, closed her eyelids in what would have been defeated if she didn't fully trust her friend. Her thoughts raced of what would come from this meeting after she placed the name of Gellert Grindelwald from the references of both newspaper articles and what Shea had spoken of to her. The raven haired woman had a strong feeling that nothing good could come out of this man's rapidly growing attention in regard to her crimson haired friend.

_Nothing good at all._

Not when Gellert Grindlewald was regarding Shea with such a look of intent. As if the menacing wizard, who was well on his rise to power, had suddenly discovered a rare artifact that he wished to obtain at any cost. Merope could tell that the other female was far from impressed with any of the man's actions, and hoped that this conversation didn't end in an altercation. It was sure to only cause wrinkles in their ready made plans, if they had to now look over their shoulders for Grindlewald now, as well as Dumbledore.

Shea hummed softly underneath her breath, something that could be mistaken for approval when Merope thought it would be more so in amusement. Though the raven haired woman bet that Gellert took it as the first; if the crooked grin on his lips was anything to go by. She supposed that he had meant it to be charming, for the impatience that took over his expression from before had now faded into intrigue. It was quite humorous to her, watching this man with golden locks framing his face and deep blue orbs trying to flatter a woman he unknowingly had no chance with.

Shea's expression was blank of emotion, meeting Gellert's gaze evenly for a minute or so, before he spoke again with persistence reflecting within his voice, _"May I inquire as to your name, Miss?"_ This time he did without the pet name 'love' at the end of his question. _Good, he was learning quickly._ But then again, Shea expected nothing less from the suave dark wizard. _One had to be able to pull out all the stops when winning over followers_ , she supposed.

 _"..You may."_ Shea nodded her head softly, her curls bouncing with the movement even with hesitancy pulsing through her veins. She couldn't help but tease him, pondering how hard she could push him until she was bordering the edge of what was deemed too far. A flicker of annoyance in his eyes before it was smothered had only made her amusement grow from within her body.

 _"What is your name then, little spitfire?"_ Gellert raised an arched eyebrow, movement making it twitch as he struggled to calm his temper. It would never do if he lost it to someone he wished to possess. The crimson haired beauty before him was a 'spitfire' indeed. His name was being whispered with fear, but she seemed unaffected at all, by his postering. He couldn't quite decide if she was just a brave lioness, with an unusually dark core; or if she were truly naïve to all that was. Either way he wished to have her. His greedy heart demanded to have her.

 _"Lily."_ Shea spoke after a brief moment of consideration, the lie leaving her lips as soon as it came to mind as it was a constant reminder of what she was fighting for. The future of those she loved and was desperately trying to save. With relative ease in which she found herself meeting Gellert Grindelwald's penetrating gaze, confidence mirroring with her every movement as she nodded her head in greeting even when Shea kept her cool demeanor, _"Lily Lefevre."_

She spoke genially. Eager to see what he made of such a pristine pure-blooded surname; an ancient matriarchal line she'd read about in her Transfiguration studies. Hailing from the formidable French Alps, their family had maintained the superior air of their pure-blooded ancestors. Ceasing all communications from the Muggle world, and little from the Magical. Their reputations for powerful sorcery was not one easily forgotten, however. Especially when Professor McGonagall had so willfully told them of their lauded shape-shifting abilities. A part of Shea found it amusing to use their name, for she was readily approaching her own transformation, of a sorts. Shifting from one form into another, much like the caterpillar.

Gellert hummed softly, the sound echoing deep from within his throat and the action caused Merope to fret once more. _Did he plainly see through the facade and acknowledge the fake name for what it was?_ How Shea could remain so calm when Merope heard her heart pounding in her ears, she could never fathom. All her worrisome thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he allowed ' _Lily Lefevre'_ to pass his lips in an almost sensual manner.

His voice was reflecting just how pleased he was to get her name; _"It is quite a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.. the both of you."_ He shot Merope a quick look, probably only just realizing that he didn't include her much in their conversation because he was taken with her crimson haired companion, before snapping his orbs back onto Shea's. _"Though I am afraid that I have a prior engagement and I must be going.. Perhaps we shall run into each other in the future."_

His eyes held a dark promise hidden behind the supposed suggestion, as he tipped his head down to silently bid them a good day before he moved down the cobblestoned street. Turning swiftly into the shadowed street, just up past Knockturn Alley. It was only when he was out of sight, did Shea lose her blank mask. Her bright eyes were brought back with life as a smile twisted on her lips, the sight making Merope wonder just what Shea's thought process was.. and for the first time pondered on if she should feel anxious in regard to it.

 _"Yes, Mr. Grindlewald.. I suppose it is possible that we shall cross paths again."_ Shea released a small laugh of amusement that even though it was meant to be quiet it still sliced through the silence around them with ease. Her mind travelling to the wizard she'd just narrowly parried attack after attack by use of her quick wit and control. The man proved to be quite the tenacious wizard, though. She nodded to herself, making a note to keep apprised on his whereabouts. Shea then turned to Merope, raising an eyebrow at the woman whom was looking at her with a perplexed expression, _"Let's go obtain that International Portkey, shall we?"_ Giving her companion her arm, good-naturedly.

Merope reached out quickly, grasping the redhead's forearm with the speed of a viper attacking it's prey before they could take one step further. _"Wait.. I -"_ The dark haired woman stuttered for a moment due to the adrenaline still pounding within her from the encounter, took a deep breath and exhaled to try to calm herself before continuing, _"What was that about? ..What does that meeting entail for all of our future designs?"_

She did not need to clarify about what she was talking about as her eyes bounced to the front door of the building and back to her companion, trying to understand the significance of the encounter through her fear. As Shea parted her luscious full lips to speak, she gave Merope an answer that only made her body heighten with alarm.

 _"That was Gellert Grindlewald starting up a 'Cat and Mouse game'.. which I have every intention in conquering."_ Shea paused to look at her before lifting one of her hands to grasp Merope's, a gentle smile on her lips as she captured the woman's eyes with her own. _"You need not worry, I will keep you safe. Merope, don't you trust me?"_

In answer, Merope nodded in agreement without a moment's hesitation and the brightly lit smile on Shea face settled her nerves almost instantly, _"Then come on. Italy waits for no one!"_

* * *

The cooler temperatures that accompanied Autumn's swift arrival, never failed to cause discomfort to Alessia's old bones. At 113, she still moved around like she was half her age; much like her mother before her. Moving about her daily routine, usually aided her attempts to soothe those frequent aches and pains. Though to be honest, she much preferred to alleviate them by using one of Renato's balms. _That man had his mother's touch for healing,_ she thought.

Signora Silvano had healed her once as a child, when she'd been grazed by a wild bowtruckle on the loose. She and her mother had been at the market, when she'd wandered off on her own. Hearing her scream, her mother had apparated to her side; slaying the foul creature, before she could come to any more harm. Signora Silvano, having seen the entire spectacle from her medicinal shop across the way, had burst forth to treat the deep laceration. Being so young, Alessia had quickly begun feeling the effects of the poisoning; boils having already appeared up her arm and shoulder.

The bowtruckle's long talons released a toxic chemical that if left untreated, could have resulted in a deadened limb. Rubbing her shoulder in memory, she continued to clean the tables nearby. Phantom pains were often the result of severe magical maladies. The pains in her joints, were quickly relieved by potions and balms; which she usually always kept on hand. She would visit Signore Silvano's shop once a month; much preferring his recipe than others in the square. Fortunately, his quiet shop was just off the beaten path. A feat in its' own as nearly every shop these days was overrun by riff-raff of the halfblood variety. _Tsk, such a shame too,_ she thought.

Swishing her wand over the tables and chairs, which had been left askew in their previous inhabitants' prompt departure. _Merlin, had they no manners these days?_ Her wrinkled hands held her wand, with much the same devotion one would a lover. Dedicated & reliable in its' tasks. She raised an eyebrow at the state of her wrecked pub, turning her nose up at the smell of spilt whisky and ale.

She normally had help closing up on evenings like this, but tonight Helena had taken her mother to St. Florence. They feared it was the Dragon Pox having another go at the poor elderly witch; whom was well into her 130th year, this spring.

Levitating the used glasses and mugs back over to the kitchens, she thought back over the night's festivities. The worst patrons of the night were the table of wizards, she had all but had to chase out. Alessia, herself was not ashamed in the least to play the role of intimidator, when it came to dealing with their sauced _somari_. _Wastes_ , she thought to herself. Shaking her head disappointedly, as she plucked the extra sickles off of the table with grin. Payment, which felt well deserving, after having dealt with them for nearly half the night.

She was quite used to seeing their type around these parts come hunting season. Their proximity to the foreboding woods of Silva Ciminia, brought them flocking into her establishment year after year. Young wizards eager to take down one of the rogue beasts that roamed the depths of the forest. _Werewolves,_ she thought. _What idiota in their right mind would pursue their kind in earnest?_ _Sciocchi!_

Just as she finished turning the last of the stools up on their head, she felt a tingling in the air outside. Grasping her wand firmly, she peered out the window; seeing two dark figures moving through the alley. The years had taught her to be wary of cloaked travellers, so late at night. While leaning more towards Grey magic than Dark, she had been raised her father's daughter. As head of the Zabini line, he had taken great lengths to teach her properly. _Not this mockery of an education, they teach the young ones these days._ She thought irately. Her late husband had been quite the Dark Arts enthusiast, himself; training their son in some of the more heavily frowned-upon spells of the craft.

Unbeknownst to most, she herself carried a fascination in the Mind Arts. It brought her immense pleasure, twisting someone's mind into something wholly her own. It was with her father's encouragement, that she pursued the study into becoming a Master. Over the years, she'd been of great use in his more costly business ventures. Often finding some swindler's scheme at work or worse. A grievous error on their part, for her father was not a wizard to take betrayal lightly.

These days, Alessia found much amusement in planting thoughts into the undesirable patron's head. Little bursts of violence or ideas. Simple things really. A few extra sickles here, a broken nose there. _An old woman needed to get her amusement somewhere_ , she thought mischievously.

She adored learning the more advanced pieces of magic in school. As such a gifted witch, she often felt more at ease with those in the years above her. Though, she did cause her fair share of mischief; nothing that her father didn't slightly approve, of course. She was devout in her pureblood beliefs, which made him unceasingly proud. Forced to leave Durmstrang just before her wedding to Ariste, her family had made sure to finish her education from home; private tutors and the like. The marriage between herself and Ariste Natari proved to be a fortunate match indeed.

The two had never developed much in the way of the traditional romance. Companionably though, the two could not have been more agreeable. Ariste was a formidable force, whether enemy or ally. Not that she'd ever let him know she thought so highly of him. He was so terribly full of himself already. _Mio vanitoso pavone._

A weighted knock rang from the door. Muttering a few of her strongest protective spells over herself, she opened the door warily. From afar, she had thought them both to be wizards. Their dark cloaks carefully hid their entire frames, from head to toe. But upon closer inspection, she noticed their slight statures. _What in Morgana were two witches doing out at this time of night?_

" _Buona Sera."_ She guardedly greeted the pair a good evening before briefly fanning her legilimency skills over the two and sensing their tension to what would have been an undetected assault. She could've taken the more invasive approach but as she was trying to be unobtrusive, she was unable to get much more from them. " _Posso aiutarle?"_ She finally asked if she could help them, offering hesitantly but pleasant nevertheless.

One turned to the other, awaiting her response from the concealment of her cloak. The taller one stepped forth; taking off her darkened hood in the process to reveal the color of crimson curls that were wild and untamed before a pleased smile curved upon her lips in response. " _..Sì, Signora Natari. We were hoping you could."_

* * *

**Italian/English Translations:**

_****Please excuse any ill-fitting translations or errors in usage. If there are any of you that speak the language and can think of phrases more suitable, we would be more than happy to make the appropriate changes.** _

Somari- Asses

Idiota- Idiots

Sciocchi- Fools

Mio vanitoso pavone- My vain peacock

Buona sera- Good evening

Posso aiutarle- May I help you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Above are the translations to the Italian words used in this chapter. We tried to cooperate some of them in the story itself so you wouldn't have to scroll down to find out what was said. Thank you so much for reading, we really appreciate it and if you find the time to review, please don't hesitate to do so. We are always welcome to opinions and responses! Thank you for reading.


	11. Wayfaring Strangers

**Hello people of Earth and welcome to another chapter of The Monster Within… finally. AvalonTheLadyKiller and I have arrived with glorious purpose, hopefully you like it as much as we do. We cringe underneath pointedly stares as we apologize for not updating this story in a long while, and we thank each and every one of you for your patience.**

**Now remember when I told you guys last chapter that it was "probably the most lengthy chapter that we have ever put out" since it was 6,046 words? Yeah… we more than doubled it this time, to make up for lost time. (And probably because we just loved it so my that we simply couldn't stop.) Either way, we hope you like it, and hope you get comfortable before reading. It's more than 13,000 words so we thought that we would warn you lovely people ahead of time. :)**

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**If you have not checked out her story 'Iridescent' you are sadly missing out and I strongly suggest that you look up her username as soon as possible. I promise you that with just one quick peek inside the story, you will instantly be hooked. The good kind, not the painful fish kind – scout's honor. Lol. I respect her so very much – for her helping me write this story, refining and smoothing out all of the rough edges… whilst helping me take this story to heights that I hadn't even considered when I decided to post the first chapter to see what everyone thought.**

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**This chapter is titled 'Wayfaring Strangers' and as always we will allow the chapter to speak for itself. Thank you for all the support, favorites, follows and reviews that you give us… showing us time and time again precisely why we love to do this.**

….

Previously on Chapter 10:

_"Buona Sera." She guardedly greeted the pair a good evening before briefly fanning her legilimency skills over the two and sensing their tension to what would have been an undetected assault. She could've taken the more invasive approach but as she was trying to be unobtrusive, she was unable to get much more from them. "Posso aiutarle?" She finally asked if she could help them, offering hesitantly but pleasant nevertheless._

_One turned to the other, awaiting her response from the concealment of her cloak. The taller one stepped forth; taking off her darkened hood in the process to reveal the color of crimson curls that were wild and untamed before a pleased smile curved upon her lips in response. "..Sì, Signora Natari. We were hoping you could."_

….

Nearly a century had passed, since Alessia had first planted her boots here in the heart of Terracina. The seasons had drifted from one into the next, and before she knew it, the years had crept upon her. Alessia was, more than anything, a proud woman; but even she could admit that those years had done quite a number on her. Some for the better, and others for the worst. A fact that her aging bones reminded her daily.

As the pure-blooded daughter of one of the most influential Italian bloodlines, Alessia had once bore such rough hewn edges that she'd feared she would never truly experience the wonders of the world. For the life of a heiress was one of rigid structure and utter confinement. She envied those of a lesser reach, more than anything; and from that jealousy, she grew cold. For true anonymity was the one thing she sought, but could not have.

Trinkets and dresses were nothing to her, when her adventurous heart yearned for escape. Yearned to develop her magic, beyond society's idea of what a ' _mere'_ witch should be. Ideals that she'd eventually see rise in her lifetime, if not for another eighty years. But Alessia was a witch before her time, and she was no ' _mere'_ anything. Fate, seemed to agree, for her path was to be the one untravelled. Something quite different was in store for her, and that something that would forever set her apart from her predecessors.

Before she was the age of one and seven, she had been 'thrown to the wolves,' as they say. Only, her new life would be far from that of the caged bird. For though Alessia was but a pebble to be tossed into whichever stream her parents saw fit, the currents had never quite allowed her body to sink. Fate had watched over her when no one else would.

From the beginning, she had bore no such illusions about what sort of match her parents sought. No matter how hard she fought to deny them their ' _rights_ '; she could not escape the fact that they, for lack of a better word, ' _owned'_ her. After all, witches in that day and age had fewer rights than that of a dung beetle. _Oh, how it had chafed her!_ To be reminded, day after day, that her life was far from her own...

But as hard as Alessia had struggled against any such imprisonment, her efforts were proven futile. For at the time, one didn't simply _deny_ a marriage proposal, once it had been decided. It was as if she was nothing more than a heirloom, as priceless and unique in all that she was, which whom her family had grown tired of looking at and, in return, hereby offered up to the person that showed an interest in her. Marriage contracts had, and perhaps always would be little more than political negotiations; based on blood, money, influence, and power. It was a well-known fact that a marital contract could bind one tighter than any noose ever could. Tensions were high, for turning down such a profitable contract could very well ignite a blood feud between the two lines. Just as easily as a poorly placed proposal, could insult the recipient's line should the match be found wanting.

At first, she had been more than overwhelmed. As the newly married witch of one of the oldest lines in Italy, she found herself quite _unsure_ of her new place in the world. So quickly had she been spit out on the shores of this serene little piece of Italian countryside. Far flung from the young girl who'd set fire to the furnishings, upon receiving the news of her engagement. However it was the changes she felt twisting beneath her skin, urging her much alike a caterpillar about to being the stages of metamorphosis… changes that weren't of the immediate sort. No, her growth had only just begun.

And much alike that of the beautiful butterfly that fought it's way out of the cocoon that had previously engulfed it; Alessia couldn't wait for the moment when she could spread her wings and truly be able to fly.

* * *

By Alessia's ripe old age, the world had left its mark upon her soul, just as much as it had her body. At times, it would leave her broken and bleeding, but her tough skin always healed. Her magic was of a powerfully resilient sort, which she had only her husband's late mother to thank for that. For her influence had single-handedly been what pulled her back from the ledge so early on.

Nadia Natari's lessons into understanding the world around her, continued to teach her many things she had never been forced to consider before. She learned more about herself in those first few years than she'd ever known she'd been missing. Her difficulties in connecting with people stemmed from her ill-shapen childhood, of that she'd had no doubt. But it was her inability to understand certain tender emotions that had frightened Nadia the most.

Lady Natari fought the inequality between genders with a full heart of fire and a sharp tongue to match. Alessia could still tenderly remember the day she'd been asked to call her 'Mamma' instead of by her title. It was one of the first times Alessia had truly let herself cry in front of another. It was this remarkable witch, who'd tutored Alessia privately in the years following her marriage, that left a true mark upon her heart as the older woman filled the role of the mother figure that she had possibly ached to have since she was only a small child. It was because of this influence that by the age of thirty, Alessia was well on her way into becoming Italy's strongest witches, even if she didn't advertise her intelligence to the world.

* * *

At the age of nearly 111 years old, Alessia liked to think she had long since left her mark on the world. Which in her mind, was far greater than any riches or power she might have beheld had she taken a different path. She stood tall, with the weight of her triumphs. And while it was not her wish to die tomorrow, she knew she would die with great pride. For what more could such a stubborn old witch ask for?

In a way, her life had began the day she'd arrived in Terracina, the place which was to be her new home. The Italian summer had only just begun, but already it had felt like the air itself had been trying to suffocate her with its stifling humidity. The Zabini heiress had been joined hand in hand with her new husband; a tall handsome wizard, to whom she had been engaged to since some years before. Their arrival had been accompanied by a deafening _crack,_ which disappeared almost immediately in the hustle and bustle of the well-worn cobblestoned street.

Carts bearing wares that were headed to market passed by loudly, along with the steady clanging of horses' shoes. Neither of the two seemed to glance around with any sort of apprehension, for their Notice-Me-Not charms were more than effective at deterring any non-magicfolk from glancing in their direction, had they heard the sound. Though not many magic folk traveled this particular route, they might have warranted at the very least a half-interested glance or a brief nod of greeting, at seeing the newly bonded couple. After a quick perusal, Ariste determined the passerbys to be only Muggles, headed to and from the local market square.

Alessia's long waves had spiralled into the air around them at the disturbance between destinations, as she took in the streetlife. Her milk chocolate locks appeared quite fair next to his pitch blackened curls, but it was he who appeared the more fetching of the two; at least in her opinion. But still, his stoic demeanor could've been quite eerie to one who had not known exactly what to look for. In fact, reading him proved far more difficult than she had ever anticipated, even for one so practiced in the Mind Arts. It would be months yet, before Alessia truly felt at ease giving him her complete trust. Something which she clutched tightly to, alongside her heart.

Alessia's family was after all, one of the most feared in all of Italy; choked full of political leaders and those involved in illegal trade. Understandably, her father had made certain she excelled in the subject most beneficial to him. But where she surpassed her betrothed in Legilimency, the far more offensive skill set; he held a natural born affinity for shielding his mind. Leaving the pair, on more than one occasion, at quite an impasse.

They couldn't have encountered each other more than a brief handful of times, with how often her mother allowed her out of the house, but each time left her with fewer answers to what kind of man he was. Getting a clear read on her soon-to-be husband, was about as fruitless as her father's attempts to tone down her mother's spending. So she had pushed to get reactions out of him during the few times they caught each other's gaze at school or an event, but Ariste was like the calm in the eye of the storm; able to look out over the storm's damage, unaffected. If anything, he seemed amused by her sharp tongue. It would be years later, before Ariste revealed that it was her fiery temper and not her looks that first caught his eye.

The contract binding them into marriage had been sealed and signed two years before their wedding, much later than most, but her mother wasn't one to settle for less than she knew she could get for Alessia. Especially for having went through all the trouble to birth ' _the ungrateful whelp that she was_ '. For Ariste, the first of July in his seventeenth year was a year for celebration. But for Alessia however, she'd been developing her own ideas that went far beyond a simple life of marriage and children. She'd had an adventurous heart from the very start.

The ceremony itself, had been scheduled for the first Sunday after Ariste had graduated from the formidable halls of Durmstrang. But though they attended the same school, it by no means meant they shared any true interactions previous to the matrimony. The older families believed that young men and women didn't require any further integration, especially with so many marriage contracts on the table; culminating in separate wings dedicated to each gender.

At nearly a year younger, Alessia had been forced to leave the academy in what would have began her seventh year. But while pure-blooded doctrine dictated the above all importance of continuing the family lines, over any other achievements; she had forced her own stipulation into the contract as soon as she realised the gravity of the situation. She'd refused to be drowned in the same pure-blooded idiocy that would have kept her caged in the home, like the generations before her.

The world was changing. Evolving into something beautifully terrifying. But it was society's resistant nature that keep the women of her age innocent of danger, and blind of any worldly wonders. But she would be damned into living a half-life before any man, wizard or muggle alike, thought to imprison her. Because for Alessia, being cursed to live a life of starvation, would by no means break her; her mind was strong. To be imprisoned within a gilded cage had a way of twisting the human mind; it had the capabilities dement the soul, from the inside out. A death far worse than never being able to feel warmth once more.

Alessia made her thoughts on the matter known, as the final contract was prepared to be sent to Ministry Officials. She came into her father's study and immediately took her father's arm in hers; speaking a Vow so strong, the walls trembled. For as long as she was denied the proper opportunity to finish her schooling and educational desires, she would refuse the bond's attempts to tie their ancestral lines. Threatening to let the greatest of untruths fall from her lips during the exchanging of the Vows; the magic that bound the merging ancestral lines. Therefore sealing her fate to end in the most violent of deaths; being stripped of one's magic. A fate long since feared, since marriage contracts were enacted back during the Dark Ages. For Alessia Zabini had no intention of being led from one cage to another.

Her threats may have been unheard of in such a day and age, but when the Heir of the great Zabini fortune spoke, one listened. For her to have been able to single-handedly initiate the Vow, without a second to bond her, meant her threat was magically plausible. And try as her mother had, to rebuke her daughter's reckless claim, the extent of Alessia's power was truly irrefutable. If allowed to pass, the legendary Zabini line, with no other heirs apparent, would die out like the weakest of species. For no other blood relatives lived to carry the weight of this once powerful bloodline.

Her rebellion was quite a surprising turn of events to the Natari family, however. She might as well have taken every ounce of air out of the room, for the deathly silence that followed. Witches of her caliber were raised to carry themselves in accordance to the oldest of pure-blooded teachings. Her own parents, however remained completely nonplussed at their daughter's grim crusade. They had after all, been struggling futilely to restrain her fervor, since before she had came into her magic. If anything her mother looked ready to strike her dead with a well-aimed killing curse, for daring to embarrass them in such a manner.

It was then that she saw her father's eyes, flash with cool calculation. It was however, the sly smirk that gave him away. For no matter how reserved he kept his features, his sense of grandeur always shined through. So, spinning his way through negotiations, he made the best of an impossible situation. His Zabini heritage refusing to be caught off guard, lest weakness be sensed in the pure-blooded hierarchy. And on that day, before two of the most influential wizarding families of Italy, she had finally made her father proud. But more importantly, her powerful outburst had sealed her fate with her betrothed's parents; for they would accept no other match for their son.

A ground-breaking turn of events, that not even her hag of a mother could've predicted. For Alessia had, in her eyes, dishonored their family with such uncouth threats of suicide. No husband could possibly have wanted such a _marred trinket_ , no matter how beautiful. As Lady of House Zabini, she took it upon herself to care for many things. ' _Feats of magical fortitude were for the of lesser bloodlines,_ ' she'd always said. Witches, like herself, were born for subtle political manipulations and craftily annihilating one's opponents in the field of discrete warfare. Alessia's magic lashing out was a faux pas that would've destroyed their family's standing in the world, had the Natari Family not been so captivated by her potential. Which had been Alessia's only saving grace, for her mother's demented mind had already strayed to thoughts of disownment and filicide.

* * *

Later, after having sat through many private discussions with her father and Lord Natari, she had been granted a private tutor of her father's choosing. An alteration which would be furthermore cemented by its addition to the marriage contract within the hour. Her appointed tutor would teach only the subjects worth teaching, in her father's opinion; meaning those which could benefit his dealings the most. Something which she vowed to limit herself to minimal interaction, so as not to be kept on a tight leash. She would not simply take one NEWT, as the students were trained for upon graduation. She would take five. For if there was anything to be said about Lord Zabini, he always came out on top. His cunning was one of the many qualities he had bequeathed her. He knew that she would see such a trial as a chance to prove herself. For if Lord Zabini had sired a son, no less than five NEWTs would've been acceptable. On that fateful day, she was made equal to a wizard in her father's eyes.

Never had she been more proud to have stood her ground. For the very essence of being a Zabini was challenging oneself as much as those around you; her great grandmother's portrait had told her that. So, while even though the words spoken had been naught but memories captured in oil, bewitched to live on through time; her words had not fallen on deaf ears. Unfortunately, Alessia had not yet realized the full weight such wisdom held at that time. Her understanding of the world had been vastly skewed by the blinders her family had placed over her eyes. Though she held no doubt that she soon will.

* * *

With Ariste at her side, they quickly swept inside the estate's gated entrance. The dry-stone palisade separated the quiet home from the busy street. The pathway curved elegantly through the cultivated gardens weaved around a gloriously carved fountain of two dragons dancing in the water. Water spouted from their mouths into the air, and at her open admiration they both turned to face her; flashing their teeth in a fearsome grin. The larger one's tail rolled amidst the water below, as though it watched her with intelligence and not by means of spellwork.

It was then that Alessia had remembered reading that the Natari line had migrated west, from their family's ancestral home in the Romanian mountains. She found it quite intriguing, to imagine her husband's family history so deeply entrenched in the same mountains, that once housed hundreds of the magnificent beasts. More so upon seeing the subtle reminder of their family's strength in surviving the dragon's reign of terror for not simply a few years, but centuries.

The estate itself, was exactly how she'd imagined it; the embodiment of old world design. Beams of sunlight rained down its stone walls magnificently. Each reflecting off the mosaic of earthen colors, to the gardens below. Every stone was rich in hue like the bottom of a well worn riverbed. It bore a sort of simplistic elegance, and Alessia herself, could not deny how utterly charmed she was by its appearance. Even the broad-standing turrets appeared less intimidating in the afternoon sunlight. Flowering vines crept skyward along their many crevices, while their shadows chased the heat away from the plants down below.

Altogether, she found her new home rather quaint. It was an odd sort of home for such a wealthy pure-blood family. Its humble grandeur set it apart from any other she'd ever set her eyes upon. Alessia herself, couldn't deny the curiosity she felt bubbling up inside. For her own life had been cloaked in unnecessary extravagance, from the moment of her birth. Though she could not say for sure it had filled her with any sense of what a home _should_ feel like. Unendingly empty rooms, floors, and wings filled no space in a child's heart after all. And though there stood hundreds of wait staff lining the walls, days were known to pass without any interaction with her family. Some days she felt as if she might as well just fade into the walls.

Thus, her inquisitive mind was ever more intrigued by her new surroundings. All of her previous misconceptions fell by the wayside, leaving her more than a little nervous at the strangeness of it all. For while the Natari family was by no means poor, thus proven by the extensive notations made surrounding her and Ariste's inheritances, she was unable to understand why they would wish to live in such an unpretentious manner. From her birth, she had bore witness to the way the wealthy pure-bloods paraded their earnings; such was the way of their lifestyle. It was how one showed their family's power and reach. Her father was quite adept at the game, and her mother stood dutifully by his side. This was something Alessia had never questioned. It was the way of the _purosangue,_ those of the purest magical bloodlines.

So, when Ariste opened the door, politely stepping aside for her to enter first, she was even more robbed of speech. Where she expected the smell of cool and crisp pressed linens pervading the air, it was instead the aroma of freshly cut fields and bread that swiftly invaded her senses. The arched windows were open and sunlight poured through the doorways, giving the home a spacious open feel; like one was outside in the gardens. Though even with the subtle wind drifting through the entryway, she deeply suspected a subtle cooling charm to be at work. Adjusted to circulate air from room to room, so as to fight back the Italian summer's heat without remaining stagnantly cool in one place.

It was with a great soul-deep sigh, that the Natari family had welcomed her into their home and into their lives. Ariste's mother was the first to come forth, unbidden by society's rules regarding proper greeting etiquette. She'd wiped her hands delicately with a dish towel before enclosing her new daughter into her arms. It wasn't until she leaned back that Alessia noticed the woman still had some flour on her cheek. A smear that could only mean she had been in the kitchens herself, laboring over what she could only assume were loaves of freshly baked artisan bread, given the smells coming from the hall.

The shocking nature that the matriarch of one of the wealthiest families in the region, was making them dinner nearly had her debating whether she needed to consult a healer immediately. But the smells bursting forth from the room her mother-in-law had departed from, had her stomach rumbling in interest. Roasted meats and vegetables rich in flavor awaited them that evening, after Ariste's father joined their party.

Much like his son, he was a man of few words, but his permanent grimace set her on edge. Next to his father, Ariste seemed positively personable; as was to be expected after she discovered his father had been one of the country's leading aurors for going on half a century. Not something the other families had spoken much of, in her presence. The man had been responsible for capturing some of the most ruthless of criminals. The Darkest of sorts; wizards that had no quarrel with committing mass murder, or even maintaining The Statute of Secrecy. She found herself enthralled when Nadia was able to pull a few of his recent tales from him over dinner. It was something that eased the lingering tension from the room, as they all applauded him for his bravery and wit.

Over the next few weeks, it become more and more apparent that Ariste was entirely his mother's son. She greatly admired the fact that he didn't feel the need, like so many others, to fill the silence with worthless prattle. But when Ariste did voice his thoughts, she could see his mother's influence completely. Nary a sentence escaped his lips that wasn't carefully constructed. Pieced together in a manner designed to ensure it wouldn't be misconstrued. If he could have withstood the tedium, he would have made a wise political leader.

Thinking back now, Alessia could only laugh at the thought of what her late husband would say to being surrounded by such dreary _imbecilli_ on a permanent basis. No, he much preferred his job at The Department of Mysteries.

* * *

Through the years, Nadia Natari was the closest thing Alessia ever had as a mother. Her own had been so utterly obsessed with maintaining decorum, that she'd often neglected Alessia for days at a time. Only under two occasions would she be allowed out of the house on a regular basis. The first was when they made their weekly visits to the shops, to show off whatever new robes or jewelry her mother had recently acquired; and the second was to attend whichever event the elite families had issued to her a formal invitation. For Lady Zabini was adamant that declining such would reflect poorly on herself, and she could not have her good name besmirched by the masses.

But, as distasteful as the aging old bat found her daughter to be, there were few things that Alessia herself despised more than being forced to join her mother; in yet another one of her more public displays. Parties hosted at the manor were of a different sort entirely, however. As much to her daughter's relief, her mother wished to see neither hide nor hare of her obtusely vexing child. And whereas such an occasion might have eased the weight of her mother's disappointment from her shoulders, it had not always.

For as long as she could remember, when either of her parents had invited guests over, she had been expected to stay in her chambers. Forbidden from trying to leave her quarters and against uttering but a sound, under fear of what her mother's wrath might bring. A fear that had held her by the throat, until she realized that even had she tried leaving or crying out, she would not have been able to.

One of her mother's favorite tricks had been to lock parts of the house off from her, sealing it with powerful silencing charms when she was little; and runes when she was older. There had been numerous occasions where she'd needed medical attention after a cut or scrape, but her calls went unanswered. Forced to try and bandage herself up in a muggle fashion and hope that once the party was over, her mother might be lucid enough to remember a healing spell. The only others left in the house were the servants, since her mother so despised the mangy look of the House Elves. Having them permanently dispatched had been one of her first moves as the new Mrs. Zabini.

The servants however, were expressly charged with waiting on the Zabini matriarch hand and foot. Ultimately, making them unable to leave their posts, for any reason, or risk being out of a job and ruined. Which was in part, half of the reason that Alessia's new home left her perplexed in more way than one.

* * *

In the Natari House, there were no sounds or indications that anyone other than the family resided within. There were multiple floors and perhaps around 30 rooms altogether; modest in terms of the true wealth they possessed.

Each room of the villa was carefully maintained by its occupants, as the Natari's each seemed to be quite familiar with casting their own cleaning charms. Similar, but oftentimes more powerful than the ones her family's servants used to employ. In fact, Alessia had bore witness to her husband's mother illustrating such a masterful skill with Arithmancy on more than one occasion. Her knowledge of the subject allowing her the keen ability to craft and strengthen some of the most difficult array of spells, on the mere turn of a sickle. The dauntless old witch seemed to have always been somewhat of a prodigy when it came to the Old Ways of spellcrafting, or so she'd heard.

Alessia found herself more than capable to do all the things she'd previously thought beneath her, or at the very least inconsequential. As the new Lady of the House, Nadia had immediately taken her under her wing. They spent hours learning recipes that had been passed down generation after generation, and which spells and preparation worked the best to enhance the ingredients' nutritional properties. Along with which ways she could go about adapting a recipe, to her own purposes. It was because of this, that her work in potioneering excelled beyond anything she could have hoped for.

In just a few short months, Alessia found she'd acquired as much talent in the kitchen as she did in the laboratories at school. The Zabini laboratories having been sealed off from her use; by her mother, who thought she should spend her time developing her ' _womanly wiles_ ' quietly in a corner of the house; wherein she would be less of a distraction to her and her husband. Alessia's father having long since disregarded any attempt to fight any of his wife's rules, for they had grown more tedious by the year.

Under Nadia's tutelage, she became adept at shifting between brewing healing droughts and elixirs one minute, and baking delicate chocolates the next. The general methods of preparation were very similar, if one discounted the grotesque nature some of the ingredients could take the shape of. Nadia was adamant in teaching how similar the process could be, to garner such different results. For true craftsmanship was required for both. ' _But while precision is required to achieve optimum results Sia_ , _without a heady passion behind such recipies, one cannot hope to achieve greatness.'_ Wise words that had guided her through many a situation in life.

Including the tenuous bond with her husband, who had taken such an instantaneous likening to her fiery spirit. To his parents, she was the daughter they'd always hoped to have, but also their most devout pupil. For with every little question she could think to ask, Nadia or her husband were there to explain and give such a carefully detailed answer to any of her queries; no matter the topic and without bias.

Oftentimes, their lessons were held outdoors, in the vast hillside out the back, when the men of the household were away. In the orchards behind the estate, was where they enjoyed laying out their lesson plans. Surrounded by all manner of fruits and vegetables imaginable ripening on the vine. Whether it was in season or not, thanks to the special plant-food Nadia brewed to help the trees produce throughout the rough winter months, against nature's pull.

In addition to her work with Nadia, her father had finally found the time to arrange for her private tutor to arrive. It was a few months after she'd settled in, that they were paid a visit from the aging wizard, who had been such a long-standing acquaintance of her father. She had known him since she was but a mere child. Mainly from dinners with her father's guests, but she remembered how he was different from the rest of the elitists present. He was an older gentleman with the fullest mustache she had ever seen, and eyes like warmed toffee tarts.

The two wizards had travelled with their families abroad together as children, and stayed in touch over the years. Which wasn't to say much, as both families had been connected by treaties and contracts since before the Middle Ages. As her tutor, he was genuine in his desire to see her do well in her studies, but even he was continuously flummoxed at the depth of knowledge she seemed to already have on the subjects. Nadia would always wink at her and invite him to stay for afternoon coffee and treats, to which he always declined. It wasn't until later, that they learned he'd taught his grandson most evenings over the summer. But with a few encouraging words, Nadia convinced him to bring along his other pupil, in hopes to give him a little encouragement in his potion-making.

However, her tutor's grandson was a handful from the moment they met. Young and with wide eyes full of mischief, young Gio managed to set fire to just about every room in the house. A feat that had his grandfather grievously apologizing, and both women in barely restrained laughter. But while the blonde haired menace didn't appear to have any Mastery in Potions waiting in the tea leaves, his work in Arithmancy following rigorous algorithms through transmutations and the like, was uncanny. The boy was as close to a savant as Merlin himself! Together they balanced each other's strengths and weaknesses. But she understood why his grandfather pursued education outside of Durmstrang hallowed halls. He would've been held back studying with those of his own age.

Both were so utterly determined to test for their NEWTs before their peers. For Alessia, that came in the harsh winter months, and for young Giovanni, only two summers thereafter. Neither could have known their paths would intertwine in her moment of need, nearly a century later.

* * *

The years had trickled away, much in the way sand did in an hourglass, overturned. Steady, at first, but altogether quicker than she cared to admit. Now, far from the fair witch she had once been, her skin was like a map of wrinkles and wear. But this fact didn't bother her nearly as much as the fact that her aches and pains, seemed to catch up with her more and more everyday. But with as many years as she had beneath her belt, she felt quite confidant in her abilities to navigate her way through the turmoil of the times.

Wars and prejudices still raged, much as they always would, she feared. But her resilience to cower at the feet of whichever upstart had swept through Italy's borders, had caused many a dispute among the pure-blooded lines in the area. Here, in the home that was once belonged to her husband's family, was where she still resided. Only now it served a far greater purpose than the modest home for one of the most prominent pure-blooded lines in all of Italy. She was now transformed into the beauteous Inn that welcomed travellers from near and far. Her home was a true home in all the meanings of the word, for she could not imagine living in any other. Travellers who sought refuge from the war were just as welcome as those who were simply passing through, in need of a good night's rest. Both were given respite from their weary travels and a warm meal to tide them over until morning.

But try as she might, Alessia remained ever so vigilant of trespassers or those she deemed suspicious. Even going so far as to routinely sweep the minds of newcomers, just to be safe. Her Legilimency skills remaining ever so sharp, after her frequent use, but she was even more reliant on her keen senses which had a way of weighing a person's intentions from only a few minutes in their company. As the wizened owner of one of the oldest establishments on the edge of Silvia Cimino, she drew quite a collection of customers. While some offered information to pass to the locals, regarding Lord Grindelwald's recent movements; others remained silent, but ever so vigilant. Hard times were upon Italy.

In fact, standing here in the heart of what had been her salvation from Zabini Manor, Alessia could recall only upon her ten fingers, the occurrences that had left her to be so regretful for the simple act of opening that heavy, oaken door to a member of the magical community. But one thing was for certain; few who entered with ill intentions left with a full purse, a full belly, and a firm grasp on exactly what it was they were there to do at all. They'd have no idea, the subtly planted thought she'd leave buried in the back of their mind. Where slept the wriggling need to confess their crimes and be absolved. A thought that would exponentially grow stronger over time, until it reached its resolution.

As for how many she'd come across here at the forest's edge, she'd say she had surely seen her fair share of both witches and wizards who had found themselves in such a state over the years. It was her duty after all, to allow no harm to come to those seeking asylum. For though Alessia could not bare a fool, she could not in good conscience suffer an opportunist with their heart set on harming another or worse stealing that which didn't belong to them. Especially when they were at their weakest. There was no honor in such treachery.

* * *

The Wayfarer, as it became known, had slowly become more than just an Inn to the ragged travelers near one of the most dangerous forests in all of Europe. Here, magical creatures hunted unrestricted and the wars of the Wizarding World were but an easily forgotten memory. The town of Terracina had grown away from the mysterious trees, for fear of their hidden danger. Leaving no trace of Muggles around for nearly half a day's journey; leaving for quite the desolate landscape, as nature reclaimed the land. The Natari orchards grew wild and unbidden, as they took over the abandoned fields. Providing quite a breathtaking view for the Inn's occupants. But whether Alessia's customers were of foreign blood or native, witches and wizards alike flocked to her for protection and not just for a room with a view.

The Natari family home, all stone and earthen beauty stood as proud as she always had, there on the valley's edge overlooking the world. A view that had a way of imbuing Alessia with a sense of being, and above all determination to protect what little she could. At this age, she felt pride about so few things, that here in this place she called home, she could not help but to throw her shoulders back and incline her chin just a touch farther north. The manner of which had been pressed into her very bones, since an early age. But here, outside of that dreadful manner from whence she'd experienced such childhood horrors, she welcomed these people with opened arms much as the Natari's had welcomed her into theirs. Here, she opened her door to those in need, regardless of age, creed, color or the magical core housed deep within their bodies. Dark and Light were welcomed here. A statement so true, that it left Alessia irritated more often than not; as she had long lost count of the number of times she was forced to break up a burgeoning duel based on a difference in views.

But one thing Alessia had always known was that one day, someone would come knocking who she could not fight. For the war was gaining steam, and it grew ever closer by the year. All this prejudice would only get worse as the Ministries moved to further take away rights that they aught naught to have, for those who spoke out were not the type to cower away from a fight. The killing would start soon, she could feel it on the air. For those pure of blood and rotten to the core with their bigoted ideals, filled the seats of wizarding politics. Further lining their pockets with galleons of those who had bribed their way out of their crimes. Pure-bloods simply did not know how to peacefully coexist without castigating those less fortunate than themselves. It was a fact that had existed a hundred years before she was born, and would probably fester a hundred years after she was long gone. For as much as time seemed immobile here in the safety of her family's blood wards, time did indeed pass by.

Nowadays, the Ministry was so much more involved in everyday life than it had been when she herself was a youngling. Or at least from what little she was able to glean from the papers in her father's study. Now, magical creatures and beings fought not only to be able to live quietly, they fought to be able to join the workforce and to study magic with other magical children. For their rights to own a wand! They had lived in the shadows before, and knew that such an existence was no way to live. But as forward thinking as the Ministries liked to believe themselves to be, Alessia knew they might never move ahead of the Muggles in their discriminatory ways. Matters of race, sexual orientation, and blood were ideals forbidden to even be spoken of in the sacred halls of the Wizengamot.

So while yes, Alessia knew she could be arrogant in her own right due to the confidence she possessed upon her abilities. Her skill was due to long hours practicing and developing her spellcraft. And more often than she cared to admit, from having to deal with those who thought she was a bit too outspoken, for a ' _good pure-blooded woman.'_ A mistake she was more than correct by stringing them up by their boots from her favorite olive tree overhanging the cliff's edge. She didn't stand for bigotry and certainly not in her own home. Some thought she was too harsh, but she knew most had lived their whole lives without anyone teaching them a mite of respect.

It was however a completely different matter, to put someone else down due to their background or state of being, in which they had little choice in. It didn't matter to her where these people came from; as long as they held respect in one hand and responsibility for their actions in the other. It also didn't hurt if they had gallons in their pockets for the fee of a room, and if they didn't she wasn't above finding some other means by which they could pay their fare. Her indifference to such things as blood purity was one of the things that her parents had despised. The more prominent it became, the further they went to sever ties completely.

She could admit that her rebellious nature was led her want to embarrass them or shame them in some manner, not by her will to do good. A cause she had not fully understood until later. Her parents never could have known that the prominent family in which they were, for lack of a better word, _selling_ her to as a means to dust their hands of her, would have fed her spirit like an everlasting fire. Spite had long since settled within her veins every time she thought of her parents, before she found her place in the arms of those that had welcomed her to their family.

However it tragically seemed as though this generation possessed naught an ounce of respect - for others and possibly even worse, themselves. _Ignoranti, il sacco di loro._ She shook her head a fraction toward each side as she attempted to hide her disgust at the blatant disrespect, mentally rebuking them as she thought 'Ignorant, the lot of them'. It _almost_ made Alessia able to swallow down the fact that her aging body would one day give out on her. The fact that she was unable to live forever, and therefore she would not have to bear witness to just what would become of the Magical World that she so loved.

Almost, but not quite.

For people - no matter the race, religion or age - always possessed the ability to change. So she could not ignore it for anything short of disgusting abuse of power and influence. Even if most upstanding witches and wizards didn't outright accept such things, those that lived in fear and shadows certainly did. For just as omission was just as painful as the lie itself, standing idly by while others were oppressed was a crime of no parallel.

* * *

Throughout the many years that came to pass since she had first opened The Wayfarer, she had been known to develop a sort of sixth sense toward danger. Those, whose appearance instantly rose the hair at the back of her neck, caused much suspicion and unease to blossom in her gut. It invoked such a sensation within her, as it spiked at her intuition, that it never ceased to make Alessia fully alert around them, as such occurrences only ended in trouble.

The two figures standing upon her threshold on this fateful night, could not have seemed more suspicious if they'd tried. Alessia's hair was on end, and her eye was twitching at the strain of trying to penetrate the fiery one's powerful Occlumency shields. The very instant that she had locked her dark brown orbs upon the young woman with orbs as bright as the dreaded Killing Curse, she had wanted to throw niceties out the window. Her twisted, gleeful smile curving upon her lips was one of burgeoning madness, which was something Alessia tried to limit to daytime hours only.

It was at this precise moment, that Alessia Natari had to resist the overwhelming urge to slam the door in both of their faces. If it were simply her home, she was certain she would have. But standing here knowing what this place meant to her and the only woman she'd ever wanted as a mother, she knew she could not. For as resilient as Nadia Natari had been, she had a heart of gold, and a need to help any creature or person she could. Denying them both entry, and leaving them to suffer the unusually drafty night on her doorstep would have shamed her in more ways than one.

But that grave sensation refused to abate. Perhaps it was the black cloaks they wore, making their appearance far more ominous than need be. It certainly didn't endear them to her, hiding themselves from her perusal. _Merlin, she'd seen dementors with more color in their cheeks than these two!_ She suspected that such a description was not as far off as it might have seemed. Particularly when this one's eyes gleamed like that of a ferocious Mother Dragon protecting her young.

She knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the witch with hair as bright as freshly spun copper, was going to be a handful at best.

* * *

 _Foreigners_ , Alessia predicted almost instantly based on how only one half of duo had answered; her own orbs still narrowed upon their forms as the cool night air sent shivers down her spine. Alessia allowed herself to take a momentary pause when the two women before her had not offered a similar reaction, in fact the only visible sign that the wind had touched them was the way the bottom hem of their black cloaks rustled in the soft breeze. _Quite the powerful heating charm, to leave no trace whatsoever. Not even the slightest warmth leaked from the barriers when the breeze sliced through._

Not many witches in their age group could have succeeded in casting such a thing, even for naught but a few minutes as they tended to wear off after a certain amount of time. It was a fact that tended to make the wizarding world go for Dragonhide leather much alike Muggles would go for their own selection of finely spun wool, another wayward fact that she collected throughout her years. Either way, Alessia found herself starting to become grudgingly impressed with the two unknown witches before her. Based solely on the way that the redhead's counterpart stilled at Alessia's question and visibly shifted her attention to her friend, it was quite possible that the other female whom remained concealed underneath the shadowy depths of her cloak wasn't familiar with the language. Or at least not enough to be able to catch everything being said. Alessia counted herself thankful that she didn't even attempt to do so, for Alessia had long since run out of patience for such things, for at the very least another month. ' _Not another foreigner mockingly trying their hand at Italian. Thank Morgana for small miracles.'_

Against her better judgement and the unshakable, gut wrenching sensation that constricted her insides with it's illusioned cords, Alessia slowly sidestepped to the left and allowed the pair of them to move forward into the shelter of the Inn. _After all_ , Alessia reasoned silently with a mental shrug after eying the duo one last time, _Mamma always did say that 'All business has the potential to become good business.'_ Hopefully her words would not lead her astray after all these years, even from beyond the grave.

" _What is it that I can do for the pair of you?"_ She questioned roughly in English after the door scraped along on the floorboards, followed by the familiar hefty bang that came soon after and echoing into the hall. This was one of the moments that Alessia was appreciative to have picked up bits and pieces of English in all her years here, though it was still a horrendous task that she was still unaccustomed to. But nonetheless, it was here inside the comfort of her home that she was given a clear view of exactly who she had just invite in.

Illuminated by the torches lining the hall and the hearth to her left, their murky features became clear. Granting Alessia a good view of who she'd allowed inside from the cold. In the flames, both of their features shone softly in their collective paleness. But though these two women could not have differed anymore in outward appearances, their demeanor mirrored each other's in the way that they both held their heads high in a newfound confidence and their shoulders brushed each others' in solidarity. Alessia could tell from the way that their orbs shined with their steadfast loyalty, that they each held much respect for each other.

" _A room_ ," The redhead spoke; once again taking the lead; her voice had become noticeably softer this time – but even so she still seemed to effortlessly command back Alessia's attention even before she stepped forward with a sense of ease. " _For starters, if you please_."

Alessia's dark eyes whipped to the brazen young witch with such a commanding tone. As upon their own accord, her lips began to tighten into a firm unimpressed line. It wasn't long until her intrigue slowly started to bleed through her facial expression. Her eyebrow inching further north by the second. _Who raised this witch? 'For starters,' indeed! Presumptuous little nuisances the lot of them, I tell you..._

" _Tre Gallons ciascuno."_ She claimed her usual price of 'Three gallons each' in her native tongue, never allowing her dark brown orbs to stray away from the curious pair of women as she reached out her olive toned hand toward the pair. Unable to resist lashing out much in the same manner the young witch had worded her 'request' just moments before.' She found herself echoing the crimson haired witch's words in English though it held a heavy accent, ".. _If you please_."

The curved, tight lipped smile that had come to rest upon the fiery haired child's face slowly transitioned into a much more sincere grin at the older woman's quick witted banter, the glint of respect that was housed with that shade of Avada Kedavra green, grew and seemed to lighten them impossibly further. Whilst her raven haired companion looked a bit more amused than Alessia would have likened, it made Alessia try to recall exactly what she did to garner such reactions that made one stranger amused and the other impressed. What exactly had she done to earn such reactions from these women, one that had been received with such blatant approval? Was it because she echoed the crimson haired woman's own words? If it was so, why would such a small action be handled with respect? It warranted curiosity, just about everything about these two did as far.

" _Of course_." Shea slowly bowed her head in comprehension, her emerald gemmed orbs flashing in the candle light with a mixture of approval and delight.

* * *

Years of fighting for her own independence and her liberties against many that sought to rip them away from her flashed once again to the forefront of her mind, and in this moment Shea couldn't help but appreciate the strong, powerful woman that stood before them. Mrs. Black had been right to respect such a woman and Shea knew that if Signora Alessia Natari were to be somehow made an ally in the future... it would be much more ideal to have made a powerful ally out of her; rather than a formidable foe.

With all that power and knowledge that this woman undoubtedly possessed, it made Shea naturally take a better likening to the first option more so than the second. It was a natural thought process for her now, to look to build up the empire before the battle would commence once again, to have those she cared for protected at any cost. To only have the most trusted soldiers amongst them, after all their enemies will show naught an ounce of mercy - Shea promised herself that she would give them the same favor as they gave the others. Dumbledore went by a different code of conduct, a wayward set of rules upon the chessboard where he named her and those close to her heart as nothing more than his pawns.

 _This time I will be ready for you, Albus Dumbledore, and I will make damn sure that I have as many people with me as I possibly could recruit. The game is already afoot._ Rage fueled within her veins as Shea thought of the man that would rue the day he ever set his sights upon her family, before she mentally shook away those thoughts of expanding her list of allies for the upcoming storm ahead for such a time and place was not _now_ , and moved to open her bottomless bag of treasures to fish out the appropriate amount of coins to pay for the both of them. The flame of the nearby torch flickered across the coins' surface; curving brightly against the edges of the gold as Shea dropped the coins gently into Alessia's outstretched palm. She then took a respectable step back, watching quietly as the older woman individually examined each one closely to make certain of it's authenticity. After a few more moments, Alessia nodded her head in approval before pocketing the money into the front pocket of her dress and tilted her head sharply to the right in gesture to the stairwell that led to the second floor.

" _Seguimi per piacere_." Alessia requested in Italian for the pair of them to 'Follow me please', even though she knew that only one would understand her words. She didn't need to spare a glance behind her to know that they had both heeded the direct order that she gave them, even when they moved as silently and as elegantly as the shadows they cast onto the earth, for the small hairs on the back of Alessia's neck still stood up on end. It was only when she finally reached the top of the stairs did she turn to look at the younger females that were following behind her at a respectable pace; not too closely but also not lagging behind. " _Oh_ ," Alessia spoke roughly in English once again and though it was a task that she usually left to her hired help, she dared to continue on with absolutely no warmth, " _and welcome to Italia._ "

Alessia turned to continue on before they had time to speak, leaving both females in her wake and after eying after the older woman silently for a few moments, Shea offered Merope a comical expression that had her chuckling under her breath. Before both women schooled their faces, hiding the brevity they had each found in the older woman's gruff reception.

" _I think I'm already starting to take a liking to her,"_ Merope whispered. Her words fading in her companion's ears, as Shea walked with a slower step than usual; realising she'd not had such a lighthearted moment in years. Emotions, had been one of the tools that had been used against her. Twisting the knife in further, was the fact that she'd truly opened herself up for them to wreak such havoc. Allowed herself to become the prey and not the hunter. Mrs. Black had worked with her for weeks to master her guise, and she refused to let it all go to waste over a small slip in a home not her own. A fact which irritated her more, that she had no true place to call home quite yet. For she deeply wished to shed her protective skin, and share with Merope some of the finer details toward her plans. But she knew such would not be a wise decision, especially with the other occupants resting just behind these thin walls.

So emotionless she stood, for Shea Potter refused to be prey for anyone ever again. But Merope, the openhearted woman that she was, had a way of seeping her way underneath her skin; moving with her blood to settle in the place nearest her heart. Her onyx haired friend seemed to know just what Shea was doing when she grew quiet, for she grasped her dear friend's hand in her own. Needing to offer her appreciation for the redhead's ability to make her smile so. Squeezing her hand, she let as much emotion as as she dared to show exude from her strange eyes.

" _You know, she reminds me of someone I know. I just wish I could remember who..."_ The Gaunt heir taunted her friend in the breathy manner she always spoke. " _A certain red haired woman with a 'hard to fool, hard to please' exterior."_ She chuckled.

" _I don't know whom you are referring to, dear friend."_ Shea responded indignantly without raising her voice, though her companion could still make out the slight lilt of her jovial banter. " _Do I know her?"_

" _Well, I should hope so. After all, I may not speak Italian but I dare to say that she is quite remarkable. What it is she's done here, it's like something of legend. Perhaps something even_ you _might have heard about from_ before _."_ Her subtle meaning was clear to her companion, but reserved enough to go unnoticed by any eavesdroppers.

Merope let loose a soft laugh as Shea gently elbowed her good naturedly to hush, before moving up the rest of the wooden steps, leaving Merope to follow behind. It was only when the pair of them reached the darkened landing that Alessia lit the sconces on this top floor, to reveal a series of closed doors that stood parallel stoned walls. Merope dutifully followed behind Shea, as her friend swept down the hall to where Alessia stood in front of a smooth maple door.

" _Sharing?"_ Alessia voiced her question as they got close, to which Shea proclaimed that the two of them had no problem sharing. Alessia nodded her head sharply in confirmation before rapidly speaking in Italian to the redhead on how things worked here at the Inn; how the doors were charmed to be keyed to their magic this way theft wasn't an option and if they caused even a hint of trouble to any degree she wouldn't hesitate to throw them out. The six Gallons they gave would buy them a week each, turning one week into two; which was more than enough time as far as Shea was concerned. Shea nodded her head softly in understanding and after giving Merope a quickened glance to silently let her know that she would update her later on, she easily brought forth her magic from deep within her core.

Alessia's dark orbs widened as the crimson haired young woman released her magic from the unwavering fortress it had been previously concealed behind. A sun-kissed hand dancing upon the smoothened texture of the door in front of them. This power had been more than Alessia had expected a young woman to possess, more so than many that she had ever crossed paths with. _Perhaps this was the reason behind the wariness that I had first felt for them,_ the Innkeeper mused to herself. _What kind of savant stood before her, capable of hiding in plain sight, as she was?_ She found herself wondering.

From whom was the fiery beauty descended from? If Alessia had to guess, she would bet everything that she had that it was nothing short of _Morgana Le Fay_ herself! Could it be that she had been previously responding to the sheer power that this woman with untamable fiery hair, magic possessed? Magic that was far beyond that of her years. Alessia wracked her brain thinking of any foreign members of the Sacred 28 that were left to birth such a child. Even more surprising, should she discover the young woman to be of mixed blood. _Just who was she_?

Almost as if on cue; the door swung open on it's own accord, hitting the wall behind it with a resounding bang and not for the first time since working here, Alessia was thankful that all the rooms held a powerful silencing charm. If not for the loud slams and creaks of just about every piece and part in this old house, then surely to protect her temples from the Morgana forsaken snores some of her customers were in denial over having.

Shea moved forward slowly, narrowing her orbs upon every detail of that around her with an eye for design, before nodding her head once in approval. The beds rested against the far wall, with fresh linens adorning them. Shea inhaled the smell of newly laundered cottons and freshly cut lavender residing in the air. Almost immediately, she could imagine herself falling asleep in that bed; with little fear that her night terrors would rip her from her peaceful dreams. Overall, the room was in feminine colors of soft lilacs and crisp whites. All excepting the seating area by the large window, which was a tasteful mix of pale grays and a deep aubergine settee. The window itself seemed to light up more of the room than the candles, with its sprawling view of the orchards under the silvery moonbeams. The bath appeared to be just beyond the beds.

Merope, whom had slowly followed her into the room, found herself gazing out the window in awe of the simple beauty nature provided of the valley below.

" _Che altro deve la coppia di avete bisogno?_ " Alessia questioned 'What else shall the pair of you require?' in a pleasant tone of voice, mindful of the fact that it had been 'A room, for starters.' Shea smiled gently at the older woman after catching sight of how Alessia stood in front of the doorway; though she didn't enter into the room, the darker woman held her hands folded in front of her body with that of which reflected proper pureblood mannerisms.

" _Please come in Signora Natari.. We have some business to discuss_." Shea locked her eyes upon Alessia's form as she spoke; silently bemused at how the older witch regarded both Merope and herself with growing suspicion that clouded her facial expression. She expected as such before they even came here; after all Shea knew with certainty that _trust_ was not something to be found, it was _earned_. Alessia's dark orbs bounced back and forth reading the room, as Alessia moved forward into the room gracefully, forcing herself to remain outwardly calm and collected as the door magically slammed shut behind her at Shea's command. The old witch stood at the ready. More than ready to grasp her wand, should the occasion arise, but hoping that such an incident did not.

" _Business_?" Alessia echoed in English, daringly meeting the eyes of the two before her with her own. _How is it that these two young witches could seal themselves off from my efforts with Legilimency. It is a Darker Art than most Light lines continue to teach their young, and neither one of these women bears the feel of one who practices the Darker sort. As much as they show the markers for having received a proper pureblood education, she did not know of any lines that quite fit. Who were they and what 'business' did they want to conduct with a woman that the pair of them had met naught ten minutes ago?_

If she needed to, Alessia supposed that she could take the pair of them down, but there was something different about each one. Something that made Alessia steadily watch each one for some hint as to how they might seek to challenge her, here in her own home. Something about them made her distinctly curious. Maybe it was their powerful magic that was so much alike her own, not quite dark but certainly not light. Maybe it was that they were so strongly bonded, like she remembered sharing with Nadia upon occasion. Their magics had been so complimentary, Nadia had once told her that it was why she knew Alessia was the one for her son. For he was too much like his father in terms of his interests and desires. Her Mamma, in all but blood; her teacher in all of the ways she needed. Maybe, it was _more_ than that of which could be seen or described. There were more to these two young women than they revealed, and it made Alessia far too curious about what it was to turn her back now.

" _Indeed._ " Merope stepped forward with a nod of her head, moving on an angle across the room until she was once again side by side Shea. Her wayward eyes, Alessia had noticed almost immediately, housed a gentle glint that mirrored the tone of voice that she used. The softness that complimented her friend's edge; a softness that Alessia hadn't bared witness to in what seemed to be many years.

" _You see we wish to present a trade. We are looking for someone that we were told that you are... acquainted with, and simply require you to write to this person requesting to meet somewhere public."_ Shea spoke her terms formally; politely, making Alessia almost consider the fact that she had simply imagined the dangerous, wild glimpse that was the other side of the redhaired beauty. Almost. " _In doing so, I shall give you a powerful healing balm from that wound of yours, Signora Natari."_

Alessia narrowed her eyes into sharpened daggers at these words as well as the knowing glint that now entered those deadly green orbs, "... _Come_?" The word she spoke was not the same in English as in Italian. It was the questioned '...How?' that made Shea's smile grow impossibly wider; it was also that one word, enlaced with confusion and suspicion that made Shea almost uncertain of just what Alessia was asking. How she had known of the wound or how had she obtained such a healing balm that was much too advanced for this current day and age?

Shea readily answered the first option, for the second was impossible to explain. " _I can sense it. The deep rooted anguish that you currently feel."_ Shea offered as an explanation before opening her black, bottomless bag once again to summon from the shadowy depths the balm that, if applied twice a day, could vanish any scar marking the person's skin in only the short time span of a couple of days. A scar that, otherwise, would be forever etched upon the skin until the person was naught but a decaying corpse. Alessia's orbs sparkled as she mentally translated the English label into her native language. _Was such a level of healing even achievable … or was this indeed an attempt at trickery like she suspected?_

She had been denied by multiple healers since the incident; all of whom had claimed that the agony she was plagued by would never fade until the very moment that her soul departed from this earth in death. Her remedies, that she was so fond of, were to help manage her pain, as there was no such cure for her ailments. Whatever it was growing inside of her, it ate at her energy and caused her bones to grow weaker every day. Alessia took a step forward to examine the label further but had to take pause when the pair in front of her mirrored her movement, with a backwards step of their own.

" _Ah, ah._ " Shea only half mockingly admonished with a shake of her pointer finger to Alessia, playfully scolding her for the curiosity that was behind her movements even though the redhead suspected such skepticism from the other woman. " _You must send the letter first, bared witness by the two of us and as per our agreement only then I shall grant you this.."_ Alessia watched cautiously as Shea stepped forward with agile grace, her movements as graceful as they were predatorial. The crimson haired beauty stopped only a few feet away from the older woman to reach out a hand in offering, opposite to the one that had been previously caressing the large, circular receptacle used to house the healing balm ... and probably Alessia's only hope.

" _So tell me, Signora Natari… do we have an accord or not?"_ At this delicately asked question, Alessia shifted her orbs from the advance healing balm to the redhead's expectant facial expression that was only complete with an elegantly raised eyebrow. Any chance of getting better … was a chance Alessia was willing to take.

" _Who is it that you are trying to find, childe?"_ The older woman questioned as she reached one of hands forward to shake the other that was already outstretched to her, and Alessia was just counted herself thankful that the two words 'Unbreakable Vow' hadn't passed either of their lips. It showed a level of trust; though Alessia knew naught what she had done to deserve it.

" _A person we suspect to be a valued friend of yours since childhood, Madam."_ Merope began to speak with a gentle tone of voice, soothed by the fact that Shea seemed to be able to convince her into a deal, " _A gentleman by the name of 'Vincent Gianni DiMarco'.."_

Alessia stilled at the full name of her childhood friend that had grown from the boy that played with her as a child to the renowned architect that these two women were looking for... She narrowed her dark orbs in suspicion that once again people were searching for him, begging him to come out of retirement. " _In the market for a home, I presume?"_ She pursed her lips with an unimpressed expression upon her face at the pair before locking eyes with green, " _The pair of you realize that he has rightfully earned his retirement as well as his solitude - that you both would be invading, yes?"_

Shea's facial expression softened even more at the protective tone of voice that Alessia all but spat at them from the scowl that dominated her lips. " _We mean not to bother him in any way, Signora Natari. We have heard of his work and respect him for all that he has archived. We still wish for you to proceed with the letter.. As a Gaunt heir will need to be born in a respectable house. A safe haven that we suspect only a DiMarco would be able to construct for us."_

Alessia paused to an abrupt, visible standstill at the word ' _Gaunt;_ ' and it was only after searching the name through her recollection, her eyes widened considerably as they sparkled with surprise. Pinning the other soft-spoken woman a look of renewed interest, as she shifted considerably at the mention of a new heir. For it was a Gaunt line that descended from the infamous English wizard 'Salazar Slytherin'; his lineage was thought to be lost by the insanity that bore from his very own mind, or as some people claimed. This new insight mind explain a lot of the questions that she had in regards to them. Alessia composed her features after a couple of seconds before raising an eyebrow at the two of them, " _You do perfectly comprehend that while I can send the letter requesting for him to meet you … that does not mean that he won't refuse your overall request for work?"_

The two younger females nodded their head in unison to express their understanding, faces set in stone and their differentiating orbs shining with determination. Alessia allowed a sigh to pass through the scowl on her lips before nodding her own head in agreement. _...Such stubbornness - such_ fire _\- in the youth this day and age. Though, it appears that the Gaunt family lineage is going to make a shocking reappearance in the Wizarding Community soon. How interesting a turn of events this will be._

" _...Very well then. I do believe that we have a deal."_ Alessia murmured in approval after a momentary lapse of silence; a swell of eagerness to witness what the duo of women before her were destined to accomplish vibrated from deep within her chest. For she knew, even if Alessia had literally _just_ met them; that they were destined to achieve things that others would have deemed as arduous. It seemed that the pair of women that stood before her seemed to go above and beyond to achieve their mutual goals, no matter the limits that were aimed by others to constrict them.

Failure wasn't an option for either of them, Alessia knew that from the very first glimpse she took of their eyes in the candlelight downstairs. Forged by situations unknown, they stood together with an imposing presence and warily cautioning everyone around them. Their words oozing with ambitious qualities that warranted respect from Alessia herself, and held a nearly unveiled threat from the one who's hair was of fire; or at least more so than that of her darker haired companion.

With her intuition sparkling to life within her, Alessia felt with vibrating anticipation that the day would one day come to pass that the two of them were going to change the Magical Community as a whole from what everyone knew it to be as of now. These two women were destined for greatness, that she held no doubt. And it was with that feeling growing within her heart as she bore her eyes upon them... that for what seemed like for the very first time in a long while; Alessia looked into the light of tomorrow with new hope.

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